Hello, Sunshine
by Miki-hime
Summary: AU. By happenstance, Gwen comes across a job opportunity: be a nanny for Arthur Pendragon's son. It would have been great, if the child wasn't evil incarnate and if she wasn't falling for her boss, who she feels would never go for a basket case like her.
1. She Works Hard for the Money

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, because if I did, it would be a very different kind of story where Morgana and Merlin ended up together and Gwen and Arthur were happily married without any betrayal. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

**She Works Hard For the Money**

Suc-ker punch: n. an unexpected punch or blow.

E.g. "You're fired, Miss Leodegrance."

See accompanied image of devastated girl with deer-in-headlights look standing in her boss's office. Is prime example of sucker-punch victim.

Guinevere shook her head to clear the image from her brain as she washed the tears from her eyes in the bathroom. She never thought she'd see the day when she was no longer fit to work at a fast food restaurant.

"You turn our customers away," was her boss's apologetic explanation. "While our food isn't the healthiest, it's wholly unnecessary to recant just how unhealthy our food is. And those lists of healthy alternatives you handed out…what were you thinking? Some of our best customers haven't come back for weeks!"

Gwen sighed and wiped a paper towel over her face. Fine. Perhaps she did go too far, but it had sounded like an incredibly wonderful idea at the time. People deserved to know just what they were putting in their mouths.

She pulled a list out of her pocket and marked painful tally number 7 for "lost jobs."

She'd never imagined that keeping a job would be so difficult. It had seemed so simple to her; all she had to do was work the hardest she could and collect her paycheck. However, that was not the case. Every job she'd landed had ended abruptly. The pet store had fired her because she released a dog they were going to let down. The hospital fired her after she promised a kid that he didn't really have to get his tetanus shot if he didn't want to. And he made it abundantly clear to the entire hospital just _how much_ he didn't want it. The jewelry store fired her after she began asking men searching for engagement rings if they were truly ready for marriage (80% of the were not), and convincing them to think over their decisions.

Gwen was good-natured, and good intentioned, but she had a difficult time switching into complete job mode. Her heart always got in the way of her brain.

With this last thought in mind, Gwen walked out of the bathroom, out of the restaurant and onto the streets of New York.

But not before reaching into her purse and posting her last copy of "12 healthy alternatives!" on the frosty glass doors.

* * *

"Oh, fuck me."

Arthur Pendragon, C.E.O of Pendragon Publishing Inc., began to bang his head against his desk in desperation.

Merlin raised his eyebrow at his friend and shook his head. "As… lovely as that sounds, Arthur, I'd rather not. I don't really swing that way—"

"Oh, shut up, _Merlin_, " Arthur groaned, his voice muffled against the hard wood of his desk. "You know how much I hate this entire process."

"Don't worry," said Merlin cheerfully, "Pretty soon, you'll run out of people willing to take up the position after they hear what he's done to the others. You'll have to hire people from outside of the country within the next few months."

Arthur rolled his eyes at his friend. "That is supposed to make me feel better? What on earth did I do to deserve this?"

"If I recall, you were quite the terror yourself, Arthur," said Merlin, tapping his temple in thought. "You poured baby food into your father's favorite record players and ripped apart his books page by page."

"True," Arthur replied. "But I never terrorized my babysitters quite like you-know-who."

"The kid's not Voldemort, you know." Merlin raised an eyebrow at his friend. "At least not yet."

"Saying his name in these interviews is bad luck, I told you," Arthur said, running his hand through his hair. "I don't want to jinx the new babysitter before she's even begun."

"Mr. Pendragon," said the tinny voice of his secretary from his intercom. "The first young lady has arrived."

Arthur sighed. "Send her in."

"And the first lamb has come to the slaughter…" Merlin whispered, narrowly avoiding Arthur's fist.

* * *

The good thing about being fired was that Gwen did not have to go to work. The bad news about being fired was that she now had no means to pay her bills and was likely to get kicked out of her apartment soon. Though the streets were just a minor step down from her crappy apartment, Gwen was sure she didn't want to commit to being a full-fledged hobo just yet—

_Splash!_

There it was, the stereotypical event that always befalls a dejected, downtrodden heroine in a movie after a horrendous day: the tidal wave of shame that results from a fast-driving car colliding with a murky New York puddle.

Her entire body was drenched and the dirty water took away what little dignity she had left. The universe had just handed her a massive F- You just when she was at her lowest point.

She reached down to wring the water out of her blouse, and found a white paper had attached itself to her midsection. She peeled it off her body, ready to rip the paper to shreds in her anger. Her hands stopped mid-tear when she realized what the paper proposed:

_Nanny Wanted_

_No Prior Experience Necessary_

_Room and Board + other Expenses Included_

_Holding open interviews at Pendragon Inc. on February 5__th__, from 2-4_

_There will be crepes._

"Crepes, huh?" Gwen murmured, folding the wet flyer and placing it in the pocket of her jeans. "Just what I need at a time like this. And a job, _any_ job would be wonderful!"

She looked down at her clothes and dismay. No man in his right mind would let her near a child looking as she did.

Her watch read 3:30. There was no way she would be able to make it back home and to her job interview in time. Unless…

"Excuse me, sir!" she nearly shouted at a man who had just passed her.

The man turned around and raised an eyebrow at her appearance. "I'm sorry, I don't carry change on me. Only debit cards."

"That's not what I—"

"You know," said the man in reproach, "you should really think about getting a job. A pretty young thing like you should find a job in no time. The streets are no place for a young—"

"I don't think she's homeless," said a man from behind her. "You can spare her the lecture."

The man looked affronted. "The _nerve_ of young people these days…"

Gwen giggled as the man walked away in a huff and turned to face her savior. She nearly dropped her purse in surprise.

God, this man was handsome. He was the kind of man you'd see on a billboard selling a product for manly men. And he was a true modern day gentlemen that had just saved her from a stuffy old man with a stick up his ass. Her day was beginning to look up.

"You're drenched," he said, upon giving her a once over. "Here, take my coat."

"But it's freezing out here!" she protested. "You'll catch a cold or something."

"And yet, you're not wearing a coat." He raised an eyebrow at her apparel and she shut her mouth. "Just take it. I'm about to get in my car and I'll just turn on the heat."

"You're too kind," Gwen whispered as he removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. "If I ever see you again, I'll give you your coat back."

"Naw," he waved his hand at her in dismissal. "I've got plenty."

"Well, thanks, uh—"

"Lance," he finished, looking slightly surprised.

"I'm Guinevere," she said, holding her hand out to him. "Most people just call me Gwen."

He instead raised his lips to her knuckles, causing her to blush a little. "A lovely name for a lovely girl. Nice to meet you."

"Thank you…likewise. Except, not about the lovely thing obviously. I wouldn't want to wound your—" She checked her watch and gasped. "Well I've got an appointment to get to, so, I better head out. Thank you so much, Lance. I hope I get to see you again so I can thank you properly for your kindness."

She waved to him as she ran as fast as she could for the interview. Today would be the day her life would change. It was the best job she could ever hope for! And the crepes! Oh lord, the _crepes_.

"Wait!" Lance called after her, "You've got… oh never mind."

* * *

"Wait, he's the kid who shaved off all of Nina's hair. I knew the name sounded familiar—"

"Don't say it!" said Arthur suddenly. "Anyways, he's changed since then—"

"Nina quit two days ago," said the woman in a deadpan voice. She stood up and grabbed her purse. "Now I'm desperate for a job, but I'm not _that_ desperate. The kid's reputation precedes him. "

Arthur sighed as he made tally number four hundred forty-five on his list of New York nannies that were now terrified of his son. If things didn't look up soon, he'd really have to call up an agency in India or something.

"I'm so screwed Merlin," Arthur sighed as he looked to his friend for guidance, advice, support, _anything._

"Yeah," Merlin said, chomping on his bagel. "I couldn't have said it better myself. You're lucky if you can find anyone in the world who would be willing to look after the little tyrant. I don't know what I would do if I were in your hopeless situation. I don't envy you for even a second."

"Clearly _this_ is why I keep you around," Arthur grumbled, reaching for an aspirin. "I need someone to trample on my spirits on the daily."

Merlin bowed to his friend. "Glad to be of service to you in these troubled times."

"We might as well close the doors," said Arthur with a dejected sigh. "I suppose I'm calling India—"

"Young lady, wait!" said the exasperated voice of Arthur's secretary from behind the door. "I don't think Mr. Pendragon is available to see you today, or _any_ day to be perfectly honest with you—"

"For the last time," said an annoyed voice Arthur did not recognize. "I. AM. NOT. HOMELESS. I'm here for a job interview."

"Send her in," Arthur ordered.

The doors burst open, revealing a woman who looked like she had just escaped from an asylum. Just what the doctor ordered.

"So," said Gwen awkwardly as the men gawked at her. "Is this the right place?"

_Oh, what the hell,_ thought Arthur as he gestured for her to sit on the leather couch. _If she's actually crazy then my son won't scare her away._

"Why do you want this job?"

A crazy question, Arthur thought. Who actually _wanted _this job?

"I… well…" Gwen sighed, staring him right in the eyes. "I know there has to be something I'm good at. I'm hoping this might be it."

Arthur was taken aback. He wasn't expecting such an honest answer. He was expecting the usual bullshit about children being the future. All that rhetoric usually went right out the window after a few days. Many of his babysitters called his son devil spawn and swore never to have children after the experience.

"You don't come from an agency do you?"

Gwen shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I know you're probably used to that kind of nanny and I can't offer you that service. I can only promise you that I won't look like a wet dog if you hire me. It's a one time thing."

"Glad to hear it," Arthur chuckled. "One more thing… do you know how to get gum out of hair?"

"Peanut butter," Gwen said immediately.

"How do you treat a chemical burn?"

"Run it under hot water for ten minutes."

"Broken limbs?"

"Splint, elevate, and call an ambulance immediately."

"Gunshot wounds?" Merlin asked.

Arthur glared at him, "Really, Merlin?"

"What! We might as well include all of the possibilities."

"I think you just use pressure to stop the bleeding and don't dig it out unless your name is Sawyer and you're stranded on a desert island. Then, dig it out by all means," said Gwen, smiling.

"You just made a LOST reference in normal conversation," said Merlin, astonished. "I love you. I'll hire you if he doesn't."

"You don't have any kids, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Thank god for that. I can't imagine what disasters would befall the earth if _you_ were to procreate."

"My hypothetical kid would trump your kid, no contest—"

"Sir," Gwen said after clearing her throat, "I know I don't have much to offer you, but if you give me a chance, I promise to give you my very best effort—"

"You're hired," Arthur said.

"Really?"

He nodded and held out his hand for her to shake. "If you give me your address, I'll send someone to pick you up tomorrow morning."

Gwen shook his hand vigorously and beamed at him. Arthur felt his stomach do a somersault. "You won't be disappointed, sir!"

"Right," Arthur said slowly, feeling overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. "Leave your address with Nancy on your way out."

"She also knows where the crepes are," Merlin added.

Arthur jabbed him painfully in the side. "The crepes are finished, unfortunately."

Gwen looked crestfallen for a moment, but quickly regained her composure. "Though I was really looking forward to them, I got something much better! Thank you very much, Mr. Pendragon. See you tomorrow!"

"Wait," said Arthur as she began to take your leave.

"Yes, sir?"

He wanted to tell her that her life was about to become a living hell that she would want to off herself by the end of her first workday. He wanted to tell her to run far, far, away and never come back if she wanted to retain what little sanity she had left.

Instead he only said, "You've got a rather large twig sticking out of your hair. I thought you ought to know."

Gwen blushed and patted her head until she located the offending object. "I promise I only make a fool out of myself every once in a while. I'll just….I'll just go home now."

She hurried quickly out of the room before Arthur could utter a single word.

"I've clearly hit rock bottom when the only nanny I can find is certifiable," Arthur moaned as he sunk down in his comfortable office chair.

"I like her," Merlin said, smiling. "She's plucky."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think she's resilient, you know, and God knows she'll need to be to deal with _him_."

"I think otherwise, Merlin," said Arthur, reaching into his desk for a pen and a paper. "I bet she cracks in a week."

"I hope you're wrong," said Merlin, looking at the puddle Gwen had unknowingly left on the floor. "She seems like such a nice girl."

"They always do," Arthur reminded him, not even lifting his eyes off his work.

"I can't believe you used crepes to lure in potential employees," said Merlin after a moment. "You have hit rock bottom indeed."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"I'm ashamed to call myself your friend."

"Good, we'll both definitely be the better for it," Arthur said wryly, finally looking up to smirk at his friend. "Now run along now, Merlin. I'm busy."

"Fine," said Merlin, sighing. "Just promise me you'll give this one a chance."

"She'll need a lot more than my support. She'll need a miracle. Let's face it: I'm feeding her to a wild, hungry lion."

"Ay." Merlin winced, recalling Nanny #407 who had woken up to find her bed covered with warty toads. "I knew her well."

* * *

Gwen placed her hands in her pockets and smiled all the way home, ignoring the odd stares she was getting from passerby. She didn't care. Today was the happiest day of her life.

She opened the door to her dingy apartment and cringed as a cockroach crawled over her toe. After today, she'd never have to deal with unwanted creatures, leaky faucets, or peeping toms for a long while.

Gwen stepped over the loose floorboard and to her dresser, where a faded picture of her father stood. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to his face with a sad smile.

"Don't worry daddy, I'm not going to be a nanny forever. It's just for the time being. Someday, I'll make it big. Someday… someday I'll make you proud."

As she removed her coat, something fell out of her pocket and onto the wooden floor. Curious, she picked it up and started to read.

_So, you probably think I'm a complete dork, and I don't normally do this, but would you like to go out for a coffee sometime? My number's on the back. Call me whenever you wish. - L_

Gwen was puzzled. She had looked positively dreadful today. Even at her best she didn't think she could _ever_ attract such a gorgeous man. For all she knew, he could be an axe murderer or something.

She shook her head. No. No one that gorgeous would ever have to resort to axe murdering. He probably had girls killing themselves just to _talk_ to him.

Gwen sighed happily. She'd had the fortune to meet a handsome stranger, a handsome boss, and secure a wonderful job all in one day. So much happiness called for a scoop of Ben and Jerry's Mint Cookie Ice Cream.

As Gwen happily indulged in God's gift to junk food, her new seven-year-old charge was plotting how to make his new nanny's life a living hell.

"I'll show her," said Mordred, as he scribbled his plans vigorously in his Spider-man notepad. "I'll make her wish she'd never been borned…"

If Gwen had known what was in store for her, she would have run away before it was too late. But it _was _too late. And, worst of all, she had no idea what was coming.

* * *

New story! Came to me while I was eating a delicious bowl of chili, oddly enough. Anyways, let me know what you think. It's my first try at modern day Merlin. I know everyone seems to hate Lancelot, but I actually like him.

Anyways thanks for reading and, as always, let me know what you think. The more feedback I get, the faster I update usually. I don't plead for reviews. If I don't get feedback, I still update, but the motivation isn't as strong because I'm not sure if people are interested or not. I write for myself, but mostly for you guys so please let me know if you're reading so I can decide to continue or not .

Miki-hime

**:: The title of this chapter comes from Donna Summer's song of the same name::**


	2. Paint it Black

Chapter 2

Paint it Black

Gwen awoke to the sound of constant knocking on her door. Feeling both puzzled and disoriented, she reached over and grabbed her alarm clock with a free hand.

The clock was blinking and indicated it was 9:00am.

Gasping, she jumped out of bed, threw on her outfit, and ran to the door as fast as she could. She unlatched all seven latches on her door (because you could never be too careful) and swung it open, an apology already on her lips.

The cute lanky boy from her boss's office stared back at her, his hand halfway to the door.

"You," she managed to say after a pregnant pause.

"Yes, me," said Merlin, leaning against her doorframe and eying her apartment warily. "Its uh—a nice place you've got here. Very…"

"Roachy?"

Merlin chuckled. "Your words, not mine. I was going to say cozy."

"Right." She opened her door wider. "Please, come in."

"Thank you," he said, sidling past her into her apartment. "I decided to let Charlie off the hook today."

"Who 's Charlie?"

"The chauffeur." He picked up all three of her duffle bags and hoisted them over his shoulder. "He's new. Very timid fellow. He's afraid of Arthur."

Gwen nodded, looking around the room to make sure she didn't forget anything.

"Oh!" she said, rushing to her dresser. "I can't believe I almost forgot this!"

"What is 'that' exactly?"

Her face softened as she wiped a bit of dust off of the picture frame. "A picture of my late father. I should really be ashamed of myself."

"Oh," he said, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "I'm sorry."

She cleared her throat. "Thank you so much for taking my bags, um…"

"Merlin," he finished for her. "Chauffer extraordinaire, at your service."

* * *

Gwen couldn't deny that Merlin was a nice person. Who couldn't help but like someone with such a wide smile and warm disposition. But despite all of this, there was one thing she was almost certain of…

He was not a "chauffer extraordinaire" by any stretch of the imagination.

To call him reckless was a gross understatement. He was practically homicidal. They had nearly crashed ten times (she knew because that's exactly how many times she saw her life flashing before her eyes). He ran at least two red lights, never bothered to signal, and drove at least thirty miles over the speed limit.

Worst of all, he did it all with a smile.

Gwen thought herself to be extremely fortunate to still have her life when they arrived at Arthur's… Arthur's…

…gargantuan mansion.

"Why do you look so surprised?"

Gwen turned to face him, "Either I'm crazy, or we're standing in front of Denzel Washington's house."

Merlin looked surprised. "You mean you didn't know Arthur lived here? He has one of the biggest houses in the city. It's been featured in almost every major magazine in the country."

She shook her head in response. "I don't read magazines."

"Surely you watch television?"

"Can't afford it," she said, her face turning redder with each passing second. "I stream."

"Oh." A beat. "Well then I suppose your surprise is understandable. Did you even know who Arthur was before you decided to work for him?"

"I'm still not exactly sure who he is." She closed the car door behind her and followed Merlin up the stairs. "He's probably going to fire me. I don't even know the difference between chartreuse and lime green or what the little spoon on the side is used for."

Merlin grinned. "Dessert. And don't worry about the chartreuse thing. Arthur definitely doesn't know that. He gets a stylist to pick out his clothes for him every morning. Wouldn't know the difference between leather and cotton if he didn't have someone to help him."

Her heart lifted ever-so-slightly at this news. But, as she looked at the marble stairs leading up to the house and the golden encrusted door knockers, it fell right back down to her stomach.

Merlin placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her nerves.

"He's not going to fire you," he said, knocking on the door. "He hasn't replaced me as a friend and I've said loads of horrible things about him."

Just as she was about to respond, the doors to the mansion swung open and an old man with a warm, smiling face glanced down at them.

"Good day, Merlin!" he said, nodding at him. He glanced over at Gwen. "Who is this lovely young lady?"

"She's the new nanny, Gregory," Merlin answered, patting her encouragingly on the back.

The man's smile dropped and his eyes widened considerably.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," he finally said, taking off his glasses and wiping a stray tear from his eye. "You're so young. Too young to deal with such trauma—"

Merlin cleared his throat and Gregory stopped talking immediately.

"Right," he said, smiling again. "I'll take those bags up to your suite. Master Pendragon is in the kitchen reading the newspaper. The…_ child_ is sleeping."

"Thank you, sir," Gwen said. "It was a pleasure meeting you!"

Greg glanced at Merlin sadly. "This one is too kind, Merlin, too kind—"

"See you later, Greg!" Merlin said suddenly, steering Gwen in the other direction.

"What was that all about?" Gwen asked as soon as the butler was out of earshot.

"That's just Greg," Merlin said, waving off the whole affair. "He's going a bit senile."

"Poor man," Gwen said, sadly.

It seemed to take ages to get to the kitchen, which wasn't any less grand than the rest of the house. The floors were so shiny, that Gwen could have sworn that she could eat of them. A chandelier made entirely of diamonds floated above the dining room table, and two large double doors led to a large sunroom.

Arthur was sitting with his back facing the doors, reading the morning newspaper. He wore a green (chartreuse?) button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his sculpted forearms for the world to see.

She adverted her eyes.

She wished her boss were a man with a potbelly, coke-bottle glasses, and a receding hairline instead of a gorgeous, estrogen-baiting, heartthrob who probably made all women within a 10-mile radius swoon. And, to top it all off, he was wearing her favorite color. The rolled-up sleeves, her one weakness, were the coup de grace. The battle was over before it had even begun.

"God, you're such an old soul." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Who actually reads the morning paper anymore when you have Internet?"

"Good morning to you too, Merlin," Arthur retorted, eying him over his paper. He nodded at Gwen. "Good morning, Guinevere. I hoped Merlin hasn't ruined your opinion of me."

She shook her head, as her lips appeared to be glued together. He'd called her _Guinevere_. Not even her father called her that. She'd always hated her full name but, on his tongue, it sounded nice. Not that she was thinking about his tongue.

"And he's subjected you to his horrible driving?"

"He's really not that bad—"

"You're a terrible liar," Arthur said, folding his paper into a tiny square. "Not that that's a horrible thing. I would hate to have an dishonest person under my employ."

"Nanny #203 was very dishonest, but she was gorgeous—"

"You've had two hundred and three nannies?" Gwen squeaked.

"No, this one just likes to assign arbitrary numbers to them." Arthur lied, glaring at Merlin.

The number was actually much closer to 437.

Arthur stood up, glancing at his watch. "Look, I must be heading out. I'm nearly late for work. I've left a list of instructions for you on the counter, Guinevere. Feel free to call me if you have any questions."

"Aye, aye, captain!" she said, saluting to her new, excessively handsome boss.

Arthur looked at her oddly before hoisted his briefcase over his shoulder and began to walk towards the door.

"Come on, Merlin, or you'll be late for work as well," Arthur said.

He turned to look at Gwen. She looked so very small in the large room. She was smiling at him enthusiastically. It was rather… cute. Not that he'd admit that to any one.

Her enthusiasm made him feel rather guilty for putting her through this. He very nearly warned her to escape while she still could. But, it was a momentary victory. Desperate times called for desperate measures after all.

So instead of warning her, he wished her good luck and hurried out the door, lest his conscience nag him once more.

* * *

Aye, Aye Captain? Had she really said that?

Gwen groaned and pressed her face in her hands in mortification. She hoped she wouldn't make a habit of embarrassing herself in front of her new boss.

Sighing, she walked over to the island where Arthur had left the following instructions:

_Guinevere,_

_Mordred will be up at exactly 10:00. He's oddly punctual that way. I'd advise you to be there on the dot._

_His meals have already been prepared for the day and are sitting in the fridge. Microwave them for 2 and half minutes. Exactly._

_Only give him one snack no matter how much he begs you._

_Don't let him touch the sugar after 5:00pm under any circumstances._

_Make sure he's prepared for bed before I get back._

_Make sure he's finished all his homework (today's Saturday, but this applies for weekdays thereafter)._

_There's a key in the top drawer on the kitchen. You're going to need it._

_I won't tolerate any violence against my son. If you touch him, you're fired, no questions asked._

Gwen raised her eyebrow at the strange list and glanced down at her watch. It was 9:59.

Crap.

She ran as fast as she could up the spiral staircase, and into the hallway to the first door on the left, per Arthur's instructions. By the time she opened the door, her watch read 10:00.

Mordred was standing at the edge of the door when she opened it. His bright blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion. He did not look happy.

All of this was lost on Gwen, who just figured he was grumpy after just waking up.

"Hello!" said Gwen, smiling down at him. "I'm Gwen, your new—OW!"

Before she could finish her sentence, Mordred stomped on her foot. Hard.

"You're late."

Gwen bit her lip to fight back tears. "It's 10:00."

"And thirty seconds," Mordred added, glaring at her. "You're late."

Gwen gawked at him before she regained her composure. "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again. Now let's get you cleaned up."

"I want my water room temperature," he ordered, pointing her in the direction of his bathtub.

"You've got it!" Gwen exclaimed, wondering how on earth a 7-year-old knew what room temperature was.

Trying to think positive, she went to the bathroom, plugged up the tub and started filling it, alternating between cold and hot water. When the tub was full, she dipped her finger in it. It seemed room temperature to her.

Still on her knees, she turned around to find Mordred staring at her. She motioned for him to come over to her. He put his hand in the water to test it.

"See? Room temp—"

Mordred grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her entire head into the water. She began to panic after a few seconds, wondering if he was going to let her go. After 15 seconds, her life flashed before her eyes for the eleventh time that day.

He released her and she gasped for air, coughing and spluttering.

"What on Earth did you do that for?" she asked when she could finally breath again.

"It wasn't room temperature," he said, as though this was all the explanation she needed. "You're 'apposed to use a thermomometer, idiot."

He reached under the cupboard and threw one at her head. She raised her hands to block it and it clattered to the floor.

"Oh," she said, biting back the words of reproach on the tip of her tongue. "Sorry."

With shaking hands, she grabbed the "thermomometer" and stuck it in the water. It was exactly 76 degrees.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said turning back to the boy. "It's 76 degrees."

"Its because I touched it," he said, matter-of-factly. "How stupid are you?"

Apparently very stupid, she realized. She should have known that this job was far too good to be true.

* * *

"I'm a horrible person, Morgana."

"I've been telling you that for ages, it was about time you realized it," said his adoptive sister over the phone. "If you're looking for sympathy from me, Arthur, you're not getting any."

Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair and twisting the phone chord around his finger. He should have known. "I'm not asking for sympathy—"

"I bet you're pulling the puppy dog look even though I can't see you."

"I'm not!" Arthur lied, moving his bottom lip firmly back to position.

She ignored his protests and continued, "That poor girl. You should have let her know what she was getting herself into, idiot. She could sue you, you know. "

"The girl is so timid, Morgana, " Arthur reassured her. "You should have seen her this morning. She was a total nervous wreck. I don't blame her really, what with my good looks and—"

"Horribly bad taste in clothing," she finished for him without missing a beat. Sighing, she asked, "So how is he?"

"He's… God, Morgana, I don't even know. I think he's angry with me. I went to bed last night before I could say good night or read him a story."

"He doesn't like nannies, Arthur, I've told you this a million times. He only wants his father. I wish you could understand," she said.

"Well we both know that's not possible, Morgana," he retorted. "His mother chose to shut him out of her life forever. I've tried to be both parents to him for years, but I just can't do it anymore. "

"That's cruel, Arthur," Morgana said after a long pause. "You know she would be with him if she could. You two made a mutual decision and you're both the better for it."

He sighed, "I know, I know. I just… I need help, and I don't think this nanny is up for it. She has such a weak constitution."

"What is she, a 19th century governess?" she asked, stifling a giggle. "You never know, she might surprise you. Life's biggest pleasures often come in the form of surprises."

He snorted. "Thanks, Budda. I'll keep that in mind."

"Who the _fuck_ is that?" said a male voice over the phone.

"Who's _that_?" Arthur asked.

"I must have left the T.V. on," Morgana said, nervously. "Silly me!"

"Mor_gana_," Arthur said, impatiently. "I always know when you're lying. Who's in your apartment and why are you so ashamed to introduce him to me."

"Is that your pansy brother?" asked the man.

"Please tell me," Arthur said slowly, "Please tell me that's not who I think it is."

"Got to run Arthur!"

The line went dead.

Arthur lifted the banged the phone onto the receiver and cursed loudly.

Unless he was mistaken, that had been the voice of Alvarr on the line.

* * *

It had taken Gwen an entire hour to dress Mordred, who apparently did not inherit his father's fashion sense. He'd apparently learned fashion from le school de Crayola.

"That blue does not go with that yellow," he'd told her when she'd picked out his first outfit. "That's periwinkle and _that's_ goldenrod. I want _pale_ yellow."

After she's retrieved the aforementioned color, he decided he wanted robin egg's blue instead of periwinkle. She'd had no idea what that looked like, and Mordred had gotten angry and threw different articles of clothing at her head.

She decided to let him dress himself after that.

At lunch, she had microwaved his meal for two minutes and 31 seconds and he'd made her hold the sandwich with her bare hands until he was satisfied. Even after running her hands under cold water, she couldn't feel her fingers.

"Why don't we sit down somewhere and find something quiet to do, Mordred?" she asked, wondering why she didn't expect a kid named "More dread" would be Lucifer's double.

"I want to color."

Gwen thanked her lucky stars. "Okay, lets go to your room. You have crayons right?"

He nodded and she followed him to his room as he searched for his crayons.

While he was busy rummaging through his toy box, she finally got a good look at his room and discovered that Mordred loved to draw and color...

…pictures of his nanny's being tortured in various ways.

Each picture on his wall depicted Mordred holding hands with his father with the nanny in the background. She gulped at a picture that featured a nanny being set ablaze.

"Found them!" he said triumphantly behind her.

She turned around only to find that he was holding two squirt guns in each of his tiny hands.

"That's not a crayon box…" Gwen said, gulping. She eyed the door, thinking of the quickest route of escape.

He pulled both triggers and Gwen shielded her eyes with her hands. Before long, she was drenched in a sort of sticky black substance.

"What is _this?_" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Paint," he said, nonchalantly.

"You said you wanted to color!" she exclaimed, lamenting the loss of her favorite outfit. "Why on Earth would you do something like this?"

"Why aren't you crying?" he asked, surprised.

It was the first display of emotion she'd seen from him all day and it threw her for a loop. There was something there, something that indicated that he wasn't the raging sociopath she'd pegged him as.

"You want me to cry?" she asked carefully, wiping some paint off her cheek.

"I want you to _leave_," he replied angrily.

"Well," she said, holding her head up high. "I'm not going to. I came here to take care of you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

He was silent for a moment, before he lifted his gun and sprayed paint all over her face.

"Then I'll make you leave," he said, throwing the gun into his toy box. "I want you out of my room. Now."

Gwen didn't think twice. She walked out of his room, cringing as the door slammed behind her. She smiled despite the dismal situation. Mordred had shown a crucial chink in his armor. It would take her some time, but eventually, she would find a way exploit it.

* * *

"You _are_ a horrible person," Merlin said to Arthur over the phone. "Don't try to make me pity you. Don't you have work to do?"

"My meeting's been postponed," Arthur answered, leaning back in his chair. "And that's exactly what Morgana said."

"Morgana?" Merlin asked, his voice at least an octave higher than usual. "She's back from Brazil then?"

"Yes. Your girlfriend is back at last," Arthur said rolling his eyes. Merlin was absolutely pathetic when it came to Morgana.

"And we're back to the second grade," Merlin said, sighing. "We both know she's not my girlfriend. Your immaturity never ceases to amaze me."

"Says the man who still has a poster of "The Superfriends!" in his bedroom," Arthur retorted. "If you don't want to admit your undying love for my sister, that's fine, but please don't walk around my house like a wounded puppy when she visits."

"Firstly, there's nothing wrong with the Superfriends. Secondly, I don't love your sister. I had a crush ten _years_ ago. I know you've been trying to plan our wedding for ages, but you've got to stop it." A beat. "Besides… I have a date today."

"Dammit. I already picked your color scheme: periwinkle and goldenrod—wait. _You_ have a date? With whom? You haven't even introduced us or anything."

"And it's going to stay that way," Merlin said quickly. "You have managed to sabotage nearly every relationship I've had."

"Lies," Arthur said, affronted. "Name one time."

"You told Cindy I was gay. Georgiana thought I had some sort of STD. And Elena… don't even get me started on her," Merlin said, ticking the names off his fingers. "There are too many others to even mention."

"None of them were good enough for you. I was doing you a favor. Cindy… well she was a closeted lesbian, Merlin. Newborn babies could have figured that out just by looking at her."

"So you out her in front of her entire family?" Merlin snorted. "That was clearly the most effective way to let me know."

"Not one of my best ideas, no," Arthur admitted. "If you let me meet this one, I promise I won't ruin it."

"Fine," Merlin sighed. "You can meet her. But I need at least a week to warn her."

Arthur sat in satisfied silence for a few moments before asking, "Do you think Mordred's managed to make Guinevere run away yet?"

"I don't, actually," Merlin replied. "She survived my driving, remember? I don't think you're giving her enough credit."

"Maybe you're right," Arthur said, sighing. "God. You and Morgana were made for each other. She said the exact same thing—"

"Well, _I_ have work to do, even if you don't," Merlin said, cutting him off. "Good day."

He hung up.

Merlin shook his head. Arthur was a good friend, but God was he needy.

"Sorry about that, Freya," he said, pulling out his stethoscope and pressing it against her back. "It was Arthur. _Again."_

Freya sat up in her hospital bed, smiling. "That's alright," she said.

She grabbed his stethoscope and pulled his lips down to hers in a kiss. Merlin very nearly dropped the chart in his hands as she parted his lips with her tongue."

When she pulled away, she had an impish glint in her eye. "I have you to myself for the rest of the night, Doctor Emrys," she said, huskily.

Merlin promptly reached into his pocket and put his phone on silent.

* * *

"Hello?"

Arthur closed the door behind him, walking into the completely dark house.

He turned on the light and walked through the kitchen, looking around for his new nanny. Or what was left of her emotionally.

When he walked into the dark living room, he heard a _click!_ He turned around to see Gwen, sitting on one of the couches, looking quite eerie by lamplight.

"Have you been sitting here the entire time?" he asked her, actually feeling a little nervous now.

"Your son's finally asleep," she said, ignoring his question. "Funny thing. I didn't know that this job entailed daily torture by seven-year-old."

"I'm going to turn on the light now," Arthur said, gulping. "It's a little dark."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked once he turned to face her again.

"I-"

"I mean I know I looked like a lunatic when we first met, but I really didn't deserve this, Mr. Pendragon. No one does."

He was speechless. Her eyes, so amazingly expressive, made him feel guiltier than he thought possible. His heart dropped to his stomach.

She shook her head, stepping away from him. "A good employer should respect his employees. Even if he thinks they're crazy or naïve."

She turned around and walked away from him. He grabbed her hand to stop her and she pulled away instantly. She tried to mask the pain, but it was too late.

"Let me see your hands," he said, softly.

Slowly, she showed him her raw upturned palms in embarrassment.

He cringed and said, "Wait here."

When he returned, he was holding a bandage and ointment in his hands. He gestured for her to sit down.

"I'm… sorry," he said, holding her hand gingerly in his hand as he began to rub the ointment on her palm. "I thought that if I told you, you would run away."

"With good reason," she said, trying to ignore the effect his hands were having on her. "I'd be lying if I told you I would have stayed after hearing about your son."

"I was desperate," he said, wrapping the bandage around her hand. "I know it's no excuse, but being a single father is difficult especially with my job. I need all the help I can get."

"I'm not going to quit, if that's what you're thinking," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "I don't think your son is evil. He's doing all this for a reason, and I'm going to try to put a stop to it."

He stopped bandaging her hand for a moment as she looked at him and was again rendered momentarily speechless by the fire in her beautiful eyes. He didn't know why he'd never noticed them before.

He cleared his throat and began working on her other hand, making a point not to look directly at her. "Thank you for not giving up on him—"

"I'm not finished," she said. "On Sundays, he's all yours. I want the day off."

"But—"

"I just spent 3 hours getting paint out of my hair," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I want the day off."

Arthur sighed. "Fine."

"You need to spend time with your son," she added. "I… I think he misses you. That's why he's trying to get rid me."

It hurt for someone else to tell him he'd been anything but a good father, especially someone he barely knew. He needed more time to stomach it.

"Anything else you'd like to add?"

"I need to know where the first aid kit is." She glanced pointedly at her hands and then pressed her hand to the knot on her head. "I need a helmet, body armor, elbow guards, knee pads…"

Arthur chuckled. "I'll make sure to get you a human-sized hamster ball to roll around the house in."

"You're just messing with me now," Gwen said through giggles. "I'm serious about the helmet, though. Your son has scarily precise aim."

"I think I can manage a helmet," he said, tying a bow around her hand with the bandage. "All done."

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling softly. "And I'm sorry I tried to frighten you when you came in. I need to ban myself from watching television for a while."

"That's what that was?"

Gwen nodded. "I saw how scared you were and I almost felt guilty."

"I wasn't scared!"

"Uh huh." She smiled. "I didn't think it was possible to look _that_ scared."

"Guine_vere_."

"Goodnight, sir," she said, stifling her giggles.

"Wait."

She turned around, looking at him expectantly. "You… you really surprised me today. I didn't expect you to stick around. You're much stronger than I gave you credit for."

She felt her cheeks burn up a bit. She had to get out of there fast before she did or said something stupid.

"Is that it, sir?"

"No," he said. His eyes softened. "Thank you. And… please call me Arthur. Mr. Pendragon makes me sound so old."

"You've got it." She hesitated before saying, "Goodnight…Arthur."

"Good night, Guinevere."

She rounded the corner before letting out the breath she didn't even know she was holding. If her pounding heart was any indication, she was in huge trouble. If he incited this much activity from touching her hands…

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, quickly navigating her phonebook until she found the number she was looking for.

The phone rang twice before someone answered.

"Hello, this is Lance."

"Hi, Lance," she said, taking a deep breath. "This is Gwen. About that coffee…"

* * *

Arthur opened the door to Mordred's room, stepping over an open box of crayons.

"I know you're awake."

Mordred pulled the covers over his head and rolled over. "Leave me alone!"

"I know you're angry with me." He sat on the edge of Mordred's bed, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm angry with myself. I haven't been here for you, and I'm sorry for that. "

"You're getting rid of the nanny?" asked the muffled voice of his son.

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I'm not getting rid of Guinevere. She's the one that suggested this. She said… that you _miss_ me."

Mordred lifted the blanket off his head and looked at his father with wide eyes. "I don't miss you. You could go to Antarntica and I wouldn't miss you at all."

"Hmm," Arthur said in mock thought. "If that's the case, I'll leave right this minute!"

He got up, pretending to leave. Mordred grabbed the sleeve of his shirt.

"I was only joking! Don't go…"

"You do miss me, then?"

"More than anything," he said softly.

He climbed into his father's arms and pressed his head to his chest. "More than anything."

"I've missed you too," Arthur said, pressing his chin to the top of his son's head.

He waited a few seconds before asking, "Do you promise not to terrorize Guinevere anymore?"

Mordred shook his head. "I still don't like her. She smiles too much."

Arthur sighed. He was asking too much with that one.

"Alright," he placed his son back on the bed and tucked him in. "Goodnight, Mor."

"Goodnight, Daddy." He paused before adding, "I love you."

Arthur's heart rose. He hadn't heard those words from his son's lips in a long while.

"I love you too. See you tomorrow."

He closed the door behind him, feeling ridiculously lighthearted. His son _didn't_ hate him! Guinevere wasn't going to quit, and he'd get to look in her eyes whenever he wished. She was actually quite pretty when she wasn't covered in debris…

He purged the thought from his mind and headed towards his room. He needed to go to bed. His thoughts were beginning to scare the hell out of him.

* * *

So, Arthur's not as much of a prat. One qualm I had with season two was that the writers completely reversed Arthur's character development. I firmly believe that Merlin changed him as much as Gwen did, but for different reasons and I want to explore that in this story.

And Merlin's a doctor! It made sense to me for some reason. If anyone was wondering, this is Merlin/Morgana as well. But I love Merlin/Freya too much not to write about it.

Anyways, I'm rambling! I loved your feedback! You guys are great! Please continue to let me know what you think!

Miki-hime

**::The title of this chapter comes from the Rolling Stones' song of the same name::**


	3. Tracks of My Tears

Tracks of My Tears

"At first I was afraid I was petrified," Gwen sang, holding her brush in front of her like a microphone. "Kept thinkin' I would never live without you by my side."

She stood in front of the mirror in her polka dotted boy shorts with her iPod tucked into them. Doing a complicated twirl and swinging her hips, she continued:

"But then I spent so many nights thinkin' how you did me wrong and I grew strong," she sang, jumping on her bed. "And I learned how to get along, and you see me somebody new—ahhhh!"

Through her new vantage point, she saw her new boss leaning against the doorframe of her room, an amused smile on his face. In her surprise, she slipped off the bed, landing on her bottom.

"You alright?" Arthur asked as he rushed over.

He offered her a hand, which she graciously took, trying hard to hide her blush.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said chuckling. "You have a nice voice. We have a studio downstairs if you ever want to use it."

"Uh…thanks," Gwen said. She was clearly mortified. "I'm just going to curl up in a ball and die now."

"May I ask why you were singing a… popular break-up song?" Arthur asked, crossing his hands over his chest. "Have you changed your mind about leaving? Are you… are you breaking up with me?"

If possible, she blushed harder. He was joking, of course, but handsome men should be allowed to make jokes about dating. It brought many images of kissing and… well… inappropriate images to her mind.

"I always sing before going on a date," she said, reminding herself of her promise not to think of her boss in an inappropriate manner. "It gives me good luck."

"A date? You?" he asked, surprised.

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Pendragon?"

"Arthur," he corrected. He cleared his throat, wishing he could take his statement back. "That came out wrong. I just thought you would be taking the day off to, you know, _recover_ from my son."

Gwen nodded, wiggling her bandaged fingers in front of her face. "That's why I'm going on a date."

"What's his name?" Arthur asked, his voice a little louder than he intended. "I might know him."

"Lance," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I doubt you'd know him. You're too rich."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not," she said, shrugging. "I just don't expect you to know… people like me."

His eyes wandered to her boy shorts. He wished he could tell her she wasn't allowed to wear them. They made her look too cute and were doing odd things to his stomach.

"It's a shame I don't know more people like you," he said, his gaze returning to her eyes.

"You don't know me very well Mr. Pe—I mean Arthur," she said, squirming under his gaze. "For all you know, I'm a trained assassin with a chainsaw hidden under my bed."

He eyed her strangely before chuckling. "Only a lousy assassin would use a chainsaw."

"Well, for all you know, that's the kind of assassin I am," she said, smiling. "The lousy kind who uses Gloria Glaynor songs and chainsaws to kill her targets."

"I honestly can't imagine you being an assassin." Arthur said, sitting down on her bed with his elbows on his knees. "You're far too kind."

"Thanks." She blushed again then cleared her throat. "Was there something you wanted?"

He suddenly looked a little embarrassed. "I… wanted to ask you something."

Gwen nodded, sitting next to him on her bed, eyeing him expectantly.

"I don't know where I should take him," he told her after a few moments of silence. "I haven't taken him out in ages. I'm not even sure what he likes anymore. I thought maybe… maybe you'd have an idea."

"I spent most of the day trying to hide from your son," she said truthfully. "I don't know how much help I can possibly offer you."

"I'll take what I can get," he said, placing his hand on her knee. "Please. I just want this day to be great. I want to try to make up for all the things I've missed."

Her eyes went to her knee and he quickly removed his hand, wondering what had possessed him to touch her.

"He likes to draw and color," she said finally, after an awkward silence. "He's actually pretty good at it."

"Really?" he asked, resting his chin on his palm. "I guess those pictures he draws aren't bad when you ignore the disturbing images in the background. But where can I take him? I can't just buy him a coloring book."

"Those pictures show the two of you together." She smiled, thinking of the happy foreground of Mordred's pictures. "I can't tell you where to take him. You have to think of something. But wherever you take him, he'll be happy because you two are together. That's really all he wants. That, and my untimely death."

Arthur smiled and patted her gently on the back. "I have a feeling he'll warm up to you. It's just going to take some time."

She nodded, standing up to face him. "I've got to get ready now. Have fun with your son."

"Thanks for your advice," said Arthur, standing up as well. "And I very much enjoyed your song."

"Anytime you want your ears assaulted, I'm your girl."

"Have fun on your date," he said, waving to her before walking out of her room.

He didn't know why the idea of his babysitter going on the date made him feel uncomfortable. Perhaps he was worried about cute little Guinevere going out with a guy named Lance, who sounded like one of those wham-bam!-thank you, ma'am kind of men.

Yeah, that was what he would keep telling himself. The alternative was too much of a hassle to even fathom.

* * *

Merlin walked down the hallway of the hospital, whistling the entire way, swinging a picnic basket in his hand.

Yes, a _picnic basket_.

"Merlin?"

He stopped and turned around, holding the basket behind his back. "Gaius!"

The old man raised his eyebrow at his charge, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Merlin said, slowly as though talking to a child. "Are you sure you're not developing Alzheimer's, old man?"

"I'm the chief of medicine," Gaius said. "I know your schedule. You're not supposed to be working today, yet you're wearing your uniform. What are you up to now?"

"Nothing!"

"I know you well enough to know when you're lying." Gaius walked toward him, his hands behind his back. "What's in the basket?"

"My lunch." Merlin held the basket in front of him. "I'm just logging a few extra hours."

"You're an attending, and a lazy one at that," Gaius retorted, opening the basket. "You treat your days off as though they're Godsend. And… you _hate_ strawberries."

"I never really gave them a chance," said Merlin, shrugging. He picked one out of the basket and grimaced. "They're actually delicious."

"Eat it, then," Gaius ordered. "If they're as delicious as you say."

Merlin shoved the strawberry in his mouth and chewed it.

"Mmm," he said, almost gagging. "It's really good."

"You're seeing her again," Gaius said, astonished. "Merlin. I told you that this is a bad idea. She's not the kind of person you should be seeing."

"You're wrong," Merlin said simply, closing the basket with an air of finality. "She's exactly the person I should be seeing. She kind and funny and sweet and she likes _me_. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I'm just worried—"

"Save it," he said, stalking past him. "She's waiting for me."

He kept walking, ignoring Gaius's yells for him to come back. He walked down the 4th floor hallway and stopped at door 432. Hesitating for a moment, he let himself in, closing the door behind him.

"Freya?"

She lay on the bed, her back facing him. She didn't respond.

"I brought you some lunch," he said, walking over to her. "I bought the ripest strawberries I could find. And whipped cream. Which can be used for much more than the strawberries.

"Merlin," she said, suddenly, still staring out the window. "I can't do this anymore."

He placed the basket at his feet, confused. She continued, "I can't go on like this, pretending everything's okay when its not. We can never have a normal relationship because there's always going to be a third party."

"Have you found some one else?" Merlin asked quietly. "I bet it's that Galehut. All the ladies fall for him even though he's clearly gay. He wears pink scrubs from Armani, Freya. I know I'm not manly, but I like to think I'm much more manly than him at least."

"There isn't another man, Merlin," she said, turning to him. She was crying. "I meant this disease! It's not going away, Merlin. I'm dying, and you can't be with me anymore."

Merlin closed the distance between them in a few strides. She tried to pull away from him, but he remained firm, kissing her, holding her close. She relented after a few moments, allowing him to kiss her fully.

He pulled away, holding her against his chest, allowing her to cry against him.

"You think I don't know that?" he said, his voice a little gruffer than usual. "It's all I think about when I'm alone. All I think about when I go to sleep, when I wake up. Every second I have with you is precious. I don't want to waste it thinking about something I already know I can't fix."

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling away slightly to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I didn't mean—"

"Shh."

He laid down on the bed, pulling her down with him, holding her just as tightly. He pressed his chin against her head.

"You have to pay me back," he said, after her tears had subsided. "Tonight, we're watching Star Wars, all three episodes."

"I thought there were six?"

"We're not watching those other ones. One, because I don't want you to fall for Hayden Christiansen. Two, because those movies are dead to me."

"You're such a dork," she said, snuggling into his chest.

"But you love me."

"I do," she said, warmly. "But that doesn't mean you're not a dork."

He chuckled, and within a few moments, the two of them drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Thanks for dropping me off, Charlie!"

Gwen beamed at him as the limo slowed to a stop in front of the coffee shop.

"Y-y-you're welcome, Ms. Leodegrance," he said, looking at her through the rearview mirror

"I'm sure Arthur doesn't hate you. He's actually really nice once you talk to him. He's not intimidating at all."

"He told me the only reason he hasn't fired me is because he doesn't want to hire another chauffeur."

"I'm sure he meant that as a compliment," she reassured him. "I'll call you if I need to get picked up again. And if Arthur doesn't appreciate your services, I certainly do!"

She shut the door behind her and the driver drove off in a daze, nearly hitting an old lady in the process.

Gwen winced before looking around for Lance. She had arrived right on time.

"Gwen?"

There he was, in all his ruggedly handsome glory. She nearly dropped her purse as he approached her. She didn't know how it was possible, but he had somehow gotten even more handsome since the last time she'd seen him.

"Let's get going, shall we?"

He offered her his elbow, which she took without a moment's hesitation. Somehow, he'd gotten the memo about her penchant for men with rolled up sleeves, which was +20 to the infinite number of points he'd wracked up.

They sat down at a book near the window and a petite blond girl immediately came to greet them. She smiled at Gwen, but when her eyes reached Lance, she actually squealed.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed pointing at him. "You're—"

"I'd like to order your mint hot chocolate and a Ruben on rye," Lance said, swiftly cutting her off."

Gwen looked at the girl oddly for a moment before saying, "I'd like a strawberry milkshake and a chicken club sandwich."

The girl didn't budge.

"I can't believe you'd go out with someone like her," the blond said, now looking at Gwen with disdain. "She's so ordinary."

Lance, noticing Gwen's crestfallen face, stood up to face the waitress. "You have no right to talk to her like that. She's more beautiful than you can ever hope to be with that attitude."

The woman didn't reply, she just fumbled with her notepad. "Well… uh… what did you say you wanted, again?"

"I want another waitress," he said, dismissing her. "Actually, I want a _waiter_."

She scurried away, mumbling to herself.

Lancelot rolled up his sleeves and returned to his seat, eying the menu once more.

"I've had their milkshakes," he said to her, smiling. "They're delicious."

"What was that all about?" Gwen asked, not letting him off the hook so easily. "She seemed to know you."

"I've never seen her in my life," he said, laying his menu on the table. "I don't know what on Earth she was talking about—"

"I don't believe you." Gwen said, sadly. "She wouldn't insult me like that if she wasn't sure of who you were. Just tell me the truth."

"I like you, Gwen," he said, suddenly. "And I don't really know why. I don't know you, but I find you interesting."

She crossed her hands over her chest. "You're avoiding the question."

"Please," he pleaded, placing a hand over hers. "Today, I just want to talk. I just want to be me, and I can't be me if I answer that question. You won't act like you either and I'll never get to know the real you."

"Oh god," she said. "Are you schizophrenic? I know some really great doctors. You really shouldn't skip on your meds, though."

Lance paused before beginning to laugh loudly. It was a deep rumbling sound that reminded her of quiet thunder. It calmed her down.

"You think… you think I'm crazy?"

He was holding his chest, recovering from his bout of laughter.

"Are you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I just want to be a blank slate. Tabula rasa. I'll tell you the truth about everything else, but that's one question I can't answer now and I need you to be okay with that."

"Will you tell me eventually?

"Ah," he said holding up a finger. " "Eventually" implies future meetings. You've already planned to see me again?"

"Yes, I mean… no? I mean—"

"I guess that should be an incentive to go out with me," Lance said, smirking. "If you don't, you'll never figure it out."

"I'm not that curious, actually," she lied. "You have to prove to me that you're not a liar and that you're a good person. Let's finish this date before we think about going on another one. We hardly know each other."

A waiter stopped by with their drinks. He smiled at Gwen, who smiled back. He was cute, in a boyish sort of way, with dark blue eyes, light brown hair, and dimples.

"I'm sorry about Lisa," he said, rolling his eyes. "She can be such a bitch sometimes."

"Tristan?"

"Hi, Gwennie. I was wondering if you'd recognize me with this hair," he said, looking upwards. "I haven't seen you since freshman year! How've you been?"

"Good," she lied. "And you?"

"Law school's a bitch," he said, rolling his eyes. "Work part time at this little establishment to work off my student loans."

"Good for you!" she said. "I'll let you know if I get into any trouble when you make it big."

"Doubtful," he said, turning towards Lance. "This girl does no wrong. She won the citizenship award like 3 years in a row in middle school."

"Hush," she said, blushing. She gestured to Lance. "This is Lance, btw. We're on a _date_."

Tristan's eyes flickered with recognition, but he said nothing.

"Nice to meet you, Tristan," Lance said.

"Nice to meet you too, " he said, winking at Gwen. "I'll be back with your order."

"He seems nice," Lance said. "It's nice to hear of your younger days."

"Right," she said, still recovering from her mortification. "If nice equals embarrassing."

"Why don't we even the playing field, " he said. "Have you ever played I never?"

Gwen crinkled her nose. "Doesn't that require alcohol?"

"I have hot chocolate," he said smiling, "And you have your milkshake. What else do we need?"

"I'll go first," Gwen said, looking at him over her milkshake. "I never kissed a man."

Gwen took a sip from her milkshake. Lance didn't touch his.

"I assure you, I'm straight as a board."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "That's what my high school boyfriend said and I caught him kissing Fredrico in the supply closet."

"Ouch." He winced. "I've never eaten an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream."

Gwen took a long sip. Once again, Lance did not.

"Oh, come on! You're making me look like a pig here!" She took a moment to think. "I've never been to Europe."

He hesitated before taking a sip.

"I'll take you on a trip sometime," he said, winking.

"That sounds amazing…" she said, dreamily. "I've always wanted to go on a trip… but my father…I don't have…"

She trailed off, looking a bit sad.

"I've never… lost a parent," he said, after a long pause.

They both took a sip. Gwen took two.

"My father," he said, before she could ask him. "Cancer."

"My mother died a long time ago," she said sadly. "My father…he… died in an accident. Hit and run. Unsolved."

"I'm sorry—"

"I've never watched LOST," she said, watching him closely.

They both took a long sip.

"Marry me," he said, suddenly. "Just for that."

She giggled. "I'm not getting married until I make something of myself. Especially not to an almost stranger who doesn't answer important questions."

"Touche," he said, holding his hand up in surrender. "Do you have a dream or something?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "I don't know what I'm good at. I'm beginning to think I'm not really good at anything."

"That's not true," he said, looking at her. "There's something different about you. You…make people feel brighter."

"If you see a job description for that, let me know," she said, sighing. "You're too kind, Lance, albeit a bit of an enigma."

He smiled at her. "What's life without a little mystery?"

"I guess you're right." She looked up at him. "Your turn."

"I've never," he paused, reaching across the table to hold her hand. "I've never met anyone quite like you."

He finished his drink and she also took a long sip from her shake. They locked eyes for a moment, his hand still resting on hers.

"I've got a Ruben on Rye and a Club sandwich," said Tristan as he arrived with their sandwiches. He eyed their hands and winked at Gwen.

She blushed and pulled her hand away, looking down at her sandwich.

"So, Gwen," said Tristan, leaning against her booth. "My girlfriend just moved here from Portland and doesn't know the place too well. I was wondering if you could show her around some day."

"I don't mind," said Gwen, looking at him oddly. "But you're going to have to tell me the whole truth."

"Fine," he said, sighing and sliding into the booth next to her. "Isolde wants to go shopping. She doesn't have any friends here and she's a bit lonely—"

"And you're afraid she'll take you shopping," Gwen finished for him.

"She's good," he said to Lance, who nodded.

"I'll do it, but it has to be on a Sunday. My boss only gives me one day off."

"Here's her number," Tristan said, handing her a piece of paper. "She'll be thrilled!"

He walked away smiling and whistling a chipper tune.

Gwen groaned. "Why do I get the feeling I've just made a horrible mistake?"

"You just can't say no, can you?"

"No," she said, giggling. "Well, sometimes. It really depends."

"How about this?" He cleared his throat. "Will you go out with me again?"

She paused for a moment, thrown off by the question. After a few moments, she recovered. "Yes. I don't know why you'd want to see me again. Bitc—I mean, Lisa, was right. I'm just ordinary. Nothing special."

"One day, you'll see what I see," he said, shaking his head. "For now, just take my word for it."

Gwen nodded and took a bite out of her sandwich. The man in front of her seemed too good to be true. He was gorgeous, nice, funny, and he _liked_ her. She knew she should be jumping up and down and singing the hallelujah chorus.

She should be happy but, as they continued to talk more about themselves, she kept thinking about the secret he was keeping from her. She wouldn't let herself be swept away by this man until she discovered exactly what it was.

* * *

"You can just drop me off here, Charlie," said Arthur as the driver pulled up to his house.

"Yes, sir."

Arthur chuckled. "You don't seem as nervous as usual."

"A very wise, very pretty girl told me not to be afraid of you," said Charlie as he opened Arthur's door to let him out. "She was right."

"Guinevere told you this?" Arthur asked, surprised. "I don't know why that surprises me. It seems like something she would say."

"I hope the young master doesn't drive her out of the house. She's very nice."

Arthur nodded, giving his driver a strange look. It seemed his driver had a little crush on his babysitter. He was going to get quite a bit of mileage out of that one.

Charlie drove away as Arthur began to walk up the steps leading to his mansion.

"Mr. Pendragon!"

He turned around to see Gwen, hurrying to catch up with him. His lips curved into a smile of their own volition.

"Good Evening, Guinevere," he said, not bothering to correct her. "How was your date?"

"It went well, I think." She crinkled her nose. "Men are strange creatures. Always want to appear mysterious to women."

"Well aren't you the cynic?"

She blushed. "I wasn't –I didn't mean to suggest that _you_ try to be mysterious or anything. Don't listen to a word I'm saying. I'm just a little confused. How was your day with Mordred?"

Arthur's face fell and he sighed. "I had an emergency meeting with a company I've been working with for months. I couldn't miss it."

"And Mordred?" she asked, wincing.

"He's not speaking to me again. He's locked himself in his room. He's going to be in one of his moods tomorrow. I'd be on your guard."

Gwen stopped walking and looked him square in the eye. "Forgive my intrusion, but you've got to make a choice Mr. Pendragon."

"Excuse me?"

"You're the boss. I'm sure you can delegate. If you keep pushing your son aside, if you keep pushing him away, he'll be so far out of your reach," Gwen explained. She turned her back to him. "Your son is more important than any meeting you'll ever have to attend. Think…think before you do something you'll regret."

"Look at me." He said, hearing something odd in her voice. "Are you crying?"

"No." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"This isn't just about Mordred, is it?"

She turned to face him, tears shining in her eyes, taking a deep breath before saying, "The day my father died, we had a fight. I called him some horrible names. I accused him of pushing my mother away…I didn't even tell him I loved him before I left the house. The last thing I ever told him was to stay out of my life. So please… I'm begging you—"

"I understand," Arthur said. Her tears disturbed him. "Just… please stop crying. I can't stand it when girls cry."

He waited a moment before wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Mr. Pendragon, isn't this inappropriate?" she asked him through tears.

"Consider it payment for your good advice," he answered. "If you want me to let go, I will."

She shook her head. "No, just for today, I need this."

They stood there for a while, in each other's arms. Arthur closed his eyes breathing the scent of her shampoo, and reveling in the warmth of her body. He knew he really shouldn't be doing this, but her body felt too good against his to let go.

Mordred watched the scene through his bedroom window and frowned. He would make her pay for trying to take his father away from him. He would make her pay… right after he finished his plate of chocolate chip cookies.

* * *

The plot thickens! I enjoyed writing this chapter! Let me know what you think! I may bring Morgana in either in chapter 4 or 5. We'll see. Until then!

Miki-Hime

The title of this song comes from Smokey Robinson's song, "Tracks of My Tears."


	4. A Little Help from My Friends

A Little Help from My Friends

"Guine…vere?"

Arthur had woken up early, in order to make a meeting with a very important advertiser. He'd made his usual morning coffee, black with no sugar (sugar was for men like Merlin), and was about to sit in his favorite chair when he noticed it was already being occupied by someone else.

Guinevere lay curled up in his armchair, a Little Mermaid blanket wrapped around her.

"Mmmhmm." She cracked open an eyelid. "Morning, Mr. Pen—Arthur ."

"Is your bed not comfortable enough for you?"

Gwen yawned and stretched her arms wide over her head and Arthur had to stop his eyes from wandering to her outstretched chest.

She shook her head. "No, it's comfortable."

"But…"

"There's a huge spider on my wall."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "A…spider."

Gwen blushed. "I have arachnophobia. Ever since this kid, who had a crush on me, put a tarantula under my shirt."

"That would do it." Arthur held out his hand to her. "Come on. I'll kill it for you."

She nodded and took his hand. He led her upstairs to her room, opening the door with his free hand.

"Where is it?"

She pointed to her left wall, clutching the side of his shirt with her hand. "See it? Isn't it gigantic?"

Arthur restrained himself from laughing aloud. The spider she was pointing at wasn't big at all. It was barely the size of a dime.

He grabbed one of her tissues and killed the spider easily, raising an amused eyebrow when she gave a little gasp of surprise from behind him. He was sure this was the closest he'd ever be to saving a damsel in distress.

"Thank you so much!"

She stepped towards him, but tripped over her bed skirt, falling right into his chest. He managed to catch her before she tumbled to the ground.

"Sorry, sir!"

"No," he said, once he'd recovered from the impact. "My pleasure."

His hands lightly encircled her waist in a very loose hug and they stood for a while, gazing at each other.

She cleared her throat and stood up, brushing off her nightgown, suddenly embarrassed that she was, again, standing in front of him in only a nightgown.

"So, I'm having a dinner party this evening," Arthur said, after an awkward pause.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed holding her hands to her face. "What was that little spoon on the right for again? I don't even know how to—"

"Relax!" he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's a mingling type of thing. No sitting down. There will probably just be hors d'oeuvres. The cook, Madeline, will take care of it. Just be sure to dress nicely. I would like to introduce you to some people."

"Why would they want to meet me?"

"They want to meet the nanny who I have so much faith in," he said, smiling at her. "I tell them about you, of course. But you have to promise me you won't abandon me—Mordred and find another family with easier children."

"I promise," she said, holding her hand over her heart. "Unless one of your friends is Brad Pitt. Then I'll have to break that promise."

"Surely I'm more handsome than—"

She raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled.

"Ok, so I guess Brad is off the guest list."

"And Chris Martin."

Arthur gaped. "Now I know I'm more handsome than him!"

"I want to marry his voice, naturally," she said, giggling. "There's nothing like a man with a beautiful voice."

"Your services are so invaluable to me that I'll have to sever my friendships with several celebrities," he said with a straight face. "I hope you know how much this sacrifice pains me."

"You'll get over it," she said, still giggling.

"Well," he sighed. "I better be off to work before I lose an advertiser."

He turned to leave, but before he could, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," she said, pressing her fingers to the knot of her tie. "Your tie's crooked."

She pulled the knot of his tie up and straightened the lapels of his dress shirt. He gulped as her deft fingers brushed against his collarbone. She was completely focused on the task at hand and didn't even notice that she was standing only an inch away from him. If he leaned over a little bit, their chests would collide.

"All done!" she said, tapping his tie lightly with her palm. "Now you're ready to get yourself an advertiser!"

He nodded, not saying anything. It was like he had been transported into "I Love Lucy!" or something and he had the urge to kiss her on the cheek or do something husbandly.

He had to get out of there. He REALLY didn't want to be Ricky Ricardo.

"Got to run!" he said, stepping back getting as far away from her as possible.

* * *

Gwen arrived at Mordred's door at 7:59:30. She waited a few moment before she opened the door at 8:00 sharp. Mordred stood in front of her, looking surprised.

She stepped back, anticipating a retaliatory action. Mordred just stepped aside and let her in his room.

"Your water is ready," she said, gesturing towards the bathroom. "I'll let you check it yourself."

He walked past her, silently, dipping his toe in the water.

"Oh," she quipped as he began to remove his clothes. "Your clothes are on your dresser. If you don't like them, pick whatever outfit you want to wear. I've prepared your backpack. I checked your math homework and it's all correct. I'll be waiting downstairs for you when you've finished."

She turned to walk away.

"Wait."

Cringing, she turned towards him. She had been hoping that giving him more independence would prevent further calamities for her.

"Yes?"

"Stay here."

It was an order, not a request, she realized. However, his voice had a strange lilt. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was pleading.

"Sure."

She sat with her back pressed against the wall, making sure to give the child his privacy.

"My daddy will never love you," he said after a short silence. "You're ugly and short and you smile too much."

She should have known.

"That's not very nice Mordred," she reproached him. "Your father is a nice man, but I don't want him to love me. "

"Daddy always says I shouldn't lie," he continued, squeezing his rubber ducky. "He espects the same from you."

"Ok, Mordred."

She wasn't going to play his game. This was child's play, quite literally. Even if Mordred had an oddly adult vocabulary.

"You probably want his money, right? Other nannies have tried. I got rid of them," he said, folding his hands over the edge of the bathtub. "I'll get rid of you too. I'll make you wish you'd never taken this job and tried to steal daddy away—"

"Mordred." She stood up and faced him with her hands on her hips. "I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work. I'm only here because you shouldn't be alone while your father goes to work. Isn't it lonely being here all by yourself?"

"I've never had to be by myself. But if you leave, daddy will bring mommy back," he said with certainty. "I know he will."

Her hands fell from her hips in surprise.

It was a question she hadn't bothered asking, but she wondered why it had never crossed her mind before now.

"W—Where is your mother, Mordred?" she asked, kneeling down close to the tub.

"Daddy said she's gone on a trip and she's never coming back. He said she loves me, but she can't come back."

There were no pictures of Mrs. Pendragon anywhere in the house. Was she deceased? Did she just leave Arthur and Mordred?

She was interrupted from her thoughts by a big splash of water from the tub. Once again, her body was soaking wet. She stood up and glared at him.

"Quit pretending you care about me," Mordred said, glaring at her. "You're the reason mommy won't come back."

"If you think this will get rid of me, Mordred, You've got another thing coming. I _do_ care about you, even though you've been horrible to me. One day, soon, you'll realize how much I actually care and you'll feel very sorr—"

He splashed her again and she just shook her head and walked out of the room, looking and feeling completely dejected.

Mordred sank into the tub. The ugly woman was a witch. Like one of those warty ones from his coloring books. Only, she wasn't actually ugly. She was kind of pretty for a girl. That was probably a part of her evil. She must be evil.

How else could he explain the tiny bit of guilt he felt when she walked away?

He had to do something fast or the witch would win. He really didn't want to turn into a toad.

* * *

Several hours later, Gwen stood in the kitchen, staring at a botched batch of hors d'oeuvres. Madeline, the head cook had quit, strangely after Mordred had left for school, taking her team of cooks with her.

"That child!" she had huffed, collecting all her things from upstairs. "He's the devil. There's no explanation for it. I've served the Pendragon family for years, but this is the last straw."

When Gwen has asked her what Mordred had done, she'd said:

"He went through my drawers while I was in the shower! Cut up all of my clothes! I've nothing but the shirt on my back."

And pants, thankfully, Gwen thought.

With that, she had waddled away, her faithful duckings—er sous chefs trailing after her with identical indignation.

She'd called Arthur to inform him, and after his multiple outbursts of "Oh, FUCK ME!" she'd agreed to take dinner upon herself. Partly from his slight hysteria and partly to stop the unwanted images that popped into her head.

It would have been great, if she knew how to operate the strange machinery in the Pendragon kitchen. It would have worked MUCH better if she knew what the hell hors d'oeuvres actually looked like.

Her phone rang.

She picked it up, hoping it wasn't Arthur, calling to ask her how things were progressing.

It was Lance.

"Hey," Gwen said, pressing her palm to her forehead. "I'm having a horrible day… It's probably better not to talk to me now."

"What's going on?"

"I have no idea how to make an hors—screw it—appetizer for rich people."

"Why are you making them?"

"Arthur's having a dinner party and I volunteered to cook because his cook bailed at the last minute."

"Is Arthur someone I'll have to battle for your affections, fair maiden?"

"No." She smiled despite herself. "But I hope you're aware of how incredibly corny you sounded just now."

"You're just jealous."

"I'm so not—"

"Come to the front door."

Gwen raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her phone as though _it_ was crazy. Shaking her head, she walked towards the door and nodded to the butler. He stepped aside and allowed her to open the door.

There stood Lance, this time wearing green and grinning widely.

"You've got powder in your hair."

"And on my cheeks, and clothes, and mouth I suspect." She crossed her hands over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"This place is on the way to work," he said casually. "They called me off, so I called you, wondering if you were free. Guess you're not."

The butler raised his eyes at Lance and closed the door behind him.

"If you're going to make fun of me, then you can go right back where you—"

"Do you know where the crackers are?"

"You can't mooch off of Mr. Pendragon," she scolded him. "He'll have my head."

"I doubt that." He walked throughout the house as though he owned the place. "I'm sure you have him wrapped around your dainty fingers."

She was speechless for a moment as she watched him begin to remove multiple utensils out of the cupboards.

"The key to "rich people appetizers" is simplicity."

He opened the fridge and pulled out many blocks of cheese, assorted vegetables, breads, and crackers.

"You don't actually have to cook any of it if you don't want to," he said as he began to wash his hands and began to cut the cheeses into tiny squares. "You just have to make it look beautiful."

"How do you know all of this?" she asked, grabbing a slap of cheese of her own.

"You're cutting them too big." He slid behind her and wrapped his hand over hers, guiding her hand. "The smaller the better."

His breath tickled her neck and she felt an odd shiver go down her spine. But it wasn't enough for her to realize he was dodging her questions again.

"How?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I thought that would work," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I used to be a sous-chef. Made food for rich people all the time."

"See," she said, pointing her knife at him. "That wasn't so hard, was it? What's wrong with working for rich people?"

"Everything," he said, sounding slightly angry. "It always made me feel restricted, like I could do what I wanted. I'd always have to answer to someone."

"And now?"

"And now," he said, clapping his hands together. "We make deviled eggs."

Gwen sighed, throwing her knife down. She'd been so close only to be diverted yet again.

"I work for a rich man," she said, casually. "And I—"

"You're miserable," he said, placing a pot full of eggs on the stove. "I know you want so much more. This is only temporary and, once you do what you need to do, you'll move on. Just as I have."

"Sure this isn't the ideal job, but I'm not miserable—ouch!"

She'd leaned against the counter that wasn't actually a counter. It was the hot stovetop.

Lance grabbed her elbow and pulled her over to the sink. He turned on the water, letting it run over her newly burned skin.

"If you do this for about 10 minutes, it won't blister or scar," he said as she glanced at him in surprise. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You're hopefully going to help me finish making these hors d'oeuvres."

"Only on one condition."

"Uh oh," she said, playfully, smiling at him. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like this."

"When we're finished," he said, trailing his finger down the side of her face and down to her top lip. "I get a kiss."

"Hardly seems fair," she said, turning towards the sink again, blushing. "That's like… that's like prostitution! I'm not a loose woman, if that's what you're thinking—"

"Relax," he said. "I was only joking."

He actually sounded…disappointed.

"Oh," she said, turning away from him. "Well, um…"

He ruffled her hair, coaxing an indignant noise from her.

"Let's start on the canapés, shall we?"

She gave up trying to read him. She knew if she kept trying, her head would explode.

* * *

"And that," said Lance, standing in front of their masterpieces, "is how you make rich people food."

Gwen was incredibly happy with their finished products. In the course of about 5 hours, they had succeeded and making canapés, deviled eggs, tiny sandwiches, dumplings, and several entrees she couldn't even pronounce.

"I didn't think I was even capable of making such pretty food!"

"It's because we make such a great team," he said, looking meaningfully at her.

He raised his hand for her to give him a high five. She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"A high-five," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling it down to his side, "is what you give to a girl who you like as a friend. Haven't you seen any teen movies?"

"Because those are clearly a handbook for life."

She nodded, completely missing his sarcasm. "Right. And if you watched as you should, you would know that _this_ is what you give to a girl you really like."

She reached for his other hand and stood on her toes, kissing him. She leaned into him a little, feeling the warmth of his chest against hers. He leaned into him as well before she pulled away, grinning devilishly.

"That's all you're getting," she said reaching into the cabinet to get some saran wrap. "Until you're willing to open up to me."

"I would have never pegged you for a tease," he said after regaining his composure. "Why can't you just let things be?"

"What are you so afraid of?" she countered. "I know you don't know me, but why can't you just trust me with whatever you're hiding. Everyone else seems to know."

"You don't get it," he mumbled, looking up at her. "Right now, you're the only person I can be myself with. Can't we just go back to that?"

He grabbed her hand and caressed it with his thumb.

"Fine," she sighed. "But I'm serious about… about..."

He was leaning closer now, and she was losing control of her speech.

"About, what?" he smirked. "This?"

He kissed her, and for that moment, she thought, to hell with all her principles. For once, she wanted to get caught in the moment.

"Ahem."

They jumped apart and looked around. No one was there.

"You're 'apposed to get ready for daddy's dinner," said the disembodied voice.

"So should you, Mordred," she said, walking around the counter to see the little boy, who had an eerie grin on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, leaning over to look at Lance. "Hello, mister."

"Hey…" Lance, waved awkwardly. He turned to Gwen. "I should probably go. I'll call you?"

"Sure," said Gwen. "Thanks… for everything."

He nodded and made him way out of the door.

Gwen began placing the hors d'oeuvres in the fridge, ignoring the look Mordred was giving her.

"You should really start getting ready," he said, climbing onto a stool. "Daddy and the guests will be here any moment."

"Okay," she said smiling, nervously.

She walked up the stairs to her bathroom and closed the door behind her. She shrugged off her odd feelings and began to giggle like a girl as she began to remove her clothes. She had a kind-of-boyfriend! Even if he didn't quite know it yet.

"I'm all aglow, Mmmmmm, And now I know," she sang, stepping into the shower and turning on the water.

She poured soap on her sponge and began washing her body.

"The key to all heaven is mine." She grabbed a bottle of shampoo, pouring a generous amount into her hair. "My heart has wings, Mmmmmm, And I can fly  
I'll touch ev'ry star in the sky..."

She didn't hear the door open and close while she was singing, or the sniggering of a small child as said door closed. She was too busy floating on cloud nine.

"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of, Mmmmmm," she pulled the shower curtain open, reaching for her towel… that wasn't there.

She gasped, looking all over the floor to see where the towel had fallen. It was nowhere to be seen.

SHIT.

As she turned to face the mirror, she realized the towel was the least of her problems. Her hair, normally chestnut colored, was now bright blue.

She screamed.

Mordred, who was coordinating his outfit, grinned widely to himself. The witch had finally met her match.

* * *

Gwen didn't have a watch, but she was sure she had been sitting inside the bathtub for over an hour. She was too mortified to move an inch. She wondered how she had not foreseen this.

She heard the door to the bathroom swing open and she covered herself with her arms, praying that the person didn't happen to see her figure behind the shower curtains.

"Honey, are you sure about this?" said a woman nervously. "I've never done this kind of thing before."

"That's because it's wrong," he said, in a voice he must have thought was sexy, but to Gwen sounded like a loud, frightening growl.

"Ohh!"

Gwen's eyes widened and she covered her ears. This was much worse than being seen. This was her worst nightmare.

"Ohhh! Ohhh! Ughhh!"

She thought of teddy bears, rainbows, daisies…

"Harder! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! OOH!"

….and it didn't help at all.

"Oh! Oh! Oh….Oh…Ah!"

Thank god. It was winding down and, though she was scarred for life, at least she didn't have to hear it anymore.

"If I would have known… you had THAT in you…I would had that affair with the Gardener."

Oh my.

Thankfully, a knock on the door saved her from any further mortifuc—mortiFIcation.

She heard zippers and shuffling from behind the curtain and she sighed in relief.

The door closed and she heard footsteps. Once again, she prayed not to get discovered.

"Okay, Arthur," said the man. "You're a handsome, intelligent, hardworking man. You're a catch, to say the least. Stunning would not be too good of an adjective for you—"

Gwen giggled loudly.

"Who's there?"

She covered her mouth, cursing herself for blowing her cover.

"There's only one place you can hide. Do you really think I won't be able to find you?"

"Alright!" she exclaimed. "Just… don't open the curtain."

"Guinevere?" Arthur asked, surprised. "My God! I've been looking all over for you. For a moment, I thought you'd quit."

"I'm surprised I haven't done that yet, to be honest," she murmured.

"Why are you hiding in the bathroom?"

She sighed. "Your son… stole my towel and dyed my hair… BLUE."

"He's never done something like that before," Arthur mused. "How did he—"

"It doesn't matter!" She stood up. "I've been here for an hour. I'm freezing because I'm naked, and my hair is B-L-U-E."

"Right," he said, awkwardly. "I'll grab you a towel."

She waited a few moments until she heard his footsteps approaching.

"Here you go," he said, throwing the towel over the curtain. "I'm… I'm sorry you had to go through that. If it makes you feel any better, your food is delicious. Everyone thinks so."

She pulled back the curtains dramatically and gaped at him, crossing her hands over her chest.

"Your hair _is_ blue," he said, staring at her.

"Thanks for noticing," she said, stalking past him and out of the bathroom.

He cursed himself and walked up to her closed door.

"It really doesn't look bad," he said, truthfully. "It just surprised me. You look like one of those cute anime girls."

Silence.

"I don't think any color would look bad on you, honestly," he continued, hoping he wasn't digging his grave further. "You…you're… you're _stunning._ Even in a towel and blue hair."

A laugh.

"Please come downstairs," he pleaded, leaning against her door. "You made this happen, you should be congratulated for it at the very least."

The door swung open, and Arthur caught himself before he hit the ground. Gwen looked down at him, an amused expression on her face. She was wearing a bright red dress that complemented her bright blue hair. Her smile was even brighter.

"Let's get this show on the road."

He offered her his elbow, which she graciously took, and the two of them slowly descended the stairs. The guests smiled as they walked down, many trying their hardest not to laugh at the image.

"This is Mordred's work, I presume," said a handsome man who approached them, eying Gwen's hair.

"I'm his new muse, Guinevere," she said, curtsying. "A pleasure."

"I'm Leon, CFO, of Pendragon Publishing inc.," he said, nodding to her. "You have the most beautiful smile. It's like sunshine after the rain."

Arthur cleared his throat and Leon smiled. "Just a compliment. I'm not going to steal your nanny away. Though I do need someone to watch—"

"See you around, Leon."

Arthur steered her away from him, causing Gwen to look at him curiously.

"I'm not unfaithful," she said. "I made a promise. But that one was hard. He looks a bit too much like a movie star."

He chuckled and proceeded to introduce her to Sophia ("bitchy brunette beauty") Vivian ("bitchy blond beauty"), Gawain ("devilishly handsome…guy") and William ("dorky, awkward, yet oddly cute, guy") and a few others she couldn't remember.

"Does your company only hire really attractive people?" she finally asked, when they sat down in the courtyard, with glasses of wine.

"Now that you mention it," he said, tapping his chin, "there are an odd number of attractive people. I mean, with me as the CEO—"

"You're a handsome, intelligent, hardworking, man. You're a catch, to say the least," she said, mocking him.

He reddened. "I can't believe you heard that."

"Oh, but I did," she said, smiling. "I promise I won't tell anyone, though. I like knowing something about you that no one else knows. Like the fact that you like anime."

"I'm not ashamed of it," he said proudly. "You've made all my anime dreams come true today. I've always has a bit of a cartoon crush on Ai from Evangelion."

"You and every other teenage boy," she said, rolling her eyes. "How on Earth are us girls expected to compete with a beautiful space girl? We should just give up."

"Space girls are too high maintenance," Arthur said, waving her off. "And boring."

"So I should ditch the blue hair then?"

"It's cool," he said, pulling a strand and watching it spring back. "But I do miss the old you. I'm not used to this blue bombshell."

"Thank you, for being so understanding earlier," she said. "If it were me, I probably would have laughed."

"You're welcome," he said, beaming at her. "How on earth did you manage to make those appetizers?"

She made a zipping motion with her lips. "A cook never reveals her secrets… unless she's paid to do it. Like Martha or Ina."

He chuckled, holding his hand out again to her. "We should head back in. I still haven't introduced you to Olaf the Terrible."

She placed her hand in his, but it felt different this time. She began to sing again before she could stop herself.

"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of, Mmmmmm …"

"What are you singing?" he asked her as he led her out of the courtyard and back into the house.

She stopped.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "Where is this Olaf character?"

She was on a cloud much higher than 9. Cloud infinity, if that was possible. Mordred had not defeated her and as long as Arthur was on her side, supporting her, she would win this fight.

If only she could learn to stop being attracted to her boss. That is what she had named this feeling inside: attraction. It was really becoming a bit of a problem. Especially since she had an almost boyfriend.

As they walked away, Mordred popped out from behind the bushes, a frown on his face and a bag of skittles in his hand. As long as his father liked Gwen, there was no way he was going to get rid of her. She was too strong for him to get rid of and, unless he found her weakness, it was a lost cause.

It was time to drive a wedge between them.

* * *

Oooh! Mordred fails again, but one of these days he's going to be successful. Poor Gwen. No Merlin in this chapter, but he'll show up again, especially with Morgana coming soon (next chapter or the one after it). Please review and let me know what you think. I really love your feedback!

Until next time,

Miki-hime

Note: The title of this chapter is a song from the Beatles, my favorite band ever!


	5. It's All Downhill from Here

It's All Downhill from Here

"Daddy?"

Arthur paused, his foot hovering above his sock. "What's up, Mor?"

Mordred perched himself on the bed next to his father. "What's kissing?"

Arthur smiled while he continued to get ready for work. "A kiss… well, its what two people do when they really love each other. Your mother and I… we used to kiss."

Mordred nodded vigorously. "Oh! I get it!"

"Why do you ask?" Arthur knelt down and touched his nose, making his son giggle. "Don't tell me you have a crush on a girl?"

"No!"

Mordred cringed at the thought. Girls were a diseased breed of demons. He would never have a crush on one as long as he lived.

"What then?" Arthur wondered. "You haven't been watching your mother's old movies, have you?"

Mordred shook his head. "Its just… I saw Gwen kissing a boy a week ago when you weren't home."

"That's ridiculous!" Arthur stood up and fixed his tie in the mirror. "Gwen would never bring someone here. She's too good a person."

"But I saw him!" Mordred exclaimed, stomping his food. He pulled something from behind his back. "I took pictures!"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Let's have a look-see, then. Hand it over."

Mordred handed his father his Mickey Mouse camera. Though he hated Mickey (who could love him with that annoying squeaky voice), the camera had finally been useful for something.

The grin slipped off Arthur's face as he flipped through the pictures. In the first, Gwen leaned over and kissed a vaguely familiar man, pressing him against the counter. In another, their positions reversed, and the man kissed her, his hands lifting the back of her shirt.

He couldn't fathom why, but he felt as though she had betrayed him. The fact that sweet, kind, beautiful Guinevere was capable of being anything but cute and flustered both surprised and intrigued him. He felt anger towards, not only her, but at the brute who was touching her. _Kissing_ her in his house!

He threw the camera on the bed and walked down the hall to find Gwen, who was dressed in a pink fluffy bathrobe. If he weren't so angry, he would have found it hilarious. She never seemed to let her robe out of her sight after last week's debacle.

"Guinevere," Arthur said, barely controlling the anger he felt.

"Oh! Good Morning, Arthur!" she said, smiling. "Would you look at that! I finally got your name right! No Mr., no sir, no Pendragon—"

"Is it true that you brought a man into my house without my express permission?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Not only that, but you exposed my son to your… I don't even want to repeat it."

"Man" she wondered. "Oh! You mean Lance? He's the one I told you about! You know, the one that helped me make the appetizers. The one who helped save the dinner your son almost ruined."

"So this is Mordred's fault now, is it?"

He didn't know why, but he needed to feel angry at her for something. Now that he remembered correctly, she had told him about Lance (the cad). She'd been completely honest about everything. Sans the kissing.

Gwen looked at him strangely. "Are we talking about the same Mordred? He cut up Madeline' s clothes, remember? Of course it was his fault. Are you feeling all right?"

Arthur shook his head. "I forbid any… kissing of any sort in front of my son. He's too young for that."

Gwen giggled. "I beg to differ. He watched Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince yesterday. He knows what a kiss is."

"That's besides the point—"

Gwen held up a hand. "Ok. I understand. Absolutely no kissing, even though there's kissing on television and movies and in songs. This is a kissing free zone. Not even a peck on the cheek. My lips are sealed."

She made a zipping motion with her fingers and winked at him. Arthur felt his anger dissipate slowly.

"Now you're just poking fun at me," he said, shaking his head.

"No, I mean it." She made an "X" motion across her chest with her hands. "No kisses. Not even the chocolate ones."

"But I love the chocolate ones…"

She shrugged. "Hey, you made the rules, not me."

"You've got me there," he said, chuckling. "I'm going to be a bit late today. I've got a date—"

Gwen's eyes widened. "A date? You?"

"Okay," he said, smiling. "I deserved that, I suppose. It's not an actual date. I meant it figuratively. I have to go over paper work with my secretary."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

He crossed his arms. "Was that bath water full of snark this morning?"

"I can't help that I'm in a joking mood." She lifted a strand of hair for him to see. "I finally got all of the blue out of my hair."

"I see." He didn't come any closer, lest he get a whiff of her shampoo again. "Her name is Vivian. You remember her from the party?"

"The one that said I reminded her of a smurf?"

"The very one," he said nodding. "She's really not that horrible. She's just a bit misunderstood."

Even Gwen, who made a point to try to see the best in everyone, couldn't defend her. She was… for lack of a better— nope, bitch was the perfect word to describe her.

"Right, so no waiting up for you. Got it."

"It's a teacher workday as well, so Mordred's off from school," he said looking at her warily. "You'll be together all day."

"As long as he stays away from my shampoo, it'll be fine," she said, noticing his concern. "Just have fun on your non-date. "

"I won't, but thanks anyway," he said, smiling to her. He turned towards the balcony. "Charlie? Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!" the driver said, from below. "Good m-m-morning, Gwen! You look beautiful this early morning! Like a sunflower…"

Gwen looked down at her bathrobe and smiled. "Thank you, Charlie. You're so kind."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Charlie, before you say something you might regret."

Gwen waved goodbye as the two closed the door behind them.

"Alright, Mordred," she said after a few moments. "Today it's just you and me. Is there any thing you want to do today that does not include my humiliation?"

Silence.

Gwen sighed impatiently. "I know you're there. You told your father about Lancelot, I'm sure. You're an incredibly clever child, you know that?"

"Yes," Mordred said, peaking out from the corner. "Auntie Morgana tells me that all the time."

"Well, she's right." Gwen crossed her legs and sat in front of him. "Let's say we call a truce for today, alright. We can have a lot of fun, you and I. Fun that doesn't involve my humiliation."

Mordred sat in front of her and narrowed his eyes. "If this is your way of getting me to like you, it's not going to work. You already got me grounded for two days. Daddy _never_ grounds me."

"I didn't get you grounded," Gwen said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy. "If you do something bad, you deserve to get punished. If you don't want to get grounded again, don't do anything bad."

Mordred looked up at her and scowled. He didn't understand why she was still here. None of his other nannies had managed to last for more than a month but, somehow, Gwen managed to. She was not going to leave on her own accord, of that he was certain. He was going to have to get her fired.

"Okay," he said, smiling. "But I get to pick the place we're going."

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "No funny business."

"Cross my heart and hope to cry," he said seriously.

Gwen resisted the urge to laugh. Sometimes she forgot that Mordred was a child.

"Okay then." She stood up and held out a hand for him. "Where do you want to go? The park? The zoo? The…"

"The carnival, " he said as he refused her outstretched hand. "I want to go see the carnival. My friend said it's only here for the week."

Gwen gulped. "T-t-the Carnival?"

"I want to ride the Ferris Wheel, and go to the house of mirriors, and eat some cotton candy!"

She looked into his eager face for signs of deception but found none. Mordred was a genius, but he couldn't read minds. She'd never told anyone about it. There was no way he could have known.

"Alright," she said, taking a big breath. "After I get dressed and you take a bath, we can go to the carnival, alright?"

Mordred nodded and smiled brightly at her. The look of childish glee took her by surprise. Perhaps she had been too hard on the boy. Maybe he was capable of being, dare she say it, a normal child.

"Excellent," she said clapping her hands together. "I'm going to get dressed."

Mordred's smile grew more sinister as she walked away. He couldn't believe how stupid she was! After all he'd done to get her fired, did she really think he was just going to give up and let her win?

Getting rid of her was going to be much easier than he thought.

* * *

Vivian always scoffed at the girls in high school who hid behind their huge sweatshirts and glasses. The one's who studied all the time and were never invited to the huge parties and spent their Friday nights eating Ben and Jerry's in front of the TV.

Sure, they were the one's who, at the five-year high school reunion, had the high paying jobs and the hot boyfriends. She'd been the straight- C girl with the straight C-cups, and all it'd gotten her was a couple of worthless relationships with married men who only wanted her body.

She didn't try hard in high school because it didn't interfere with her dream. After all, being a trophy wife didn't require straight As. If she played her cards right, eventually she'd be lounging around in her huge sunroom reading _ELLE,_ being fanned with Eucalyptus leaves and fed grapes by shirtless men…

"Vivian?"

It was Arthur. Incredibly handsome, incredibly _rich_ Arthur Pendragon; the man who would one day make all of her dreams come true.

"Uh," he said, looking a bit disgusted, "you're drooling."

"Oh." Her smile fell and she looked around frantically for a tissue. "This is… really embarrassing…"

"Here," Arthur said, reaching into his breast pocket. "Use this. I have about a million in my office. They were a gift from my sister."

"Thanks." She took the handkerchief and wiped the corner of her mouth, her face still flushed in embarrassment. "Is there something you wanted?"

She sat up, leaning forward on her desk. Her body was positioned in such a way that he could look down her shirt easily. She knew because she'd tried it on Arthur's dorky friend a couple times to practice.

"Yes, actually," he said, looking her in the _eyes_. "We're organizing the office today, remember. You told me you couldn't move things on your own so I offered to help. You don't remember?"

She was probably too busy admiring the curve of his biceps under his shirt to notice.

"Oh, right!" she said, jumping to give herself a little _bounce._ "I totally remember. Six O'clock, right?"

"Yes," he said, looking at her oddly," though I don't understand why we have to meet so late. I get early today—"

"Us secretaries are going out for drinks after work," she blurted out, crossing her fingers behind her back. "Today's the only day I'm free to do it."

Arthur sighed. "It's okay, Vivian. Just don't be late. I don't even get to tuck my son in because of this."

"Right," She said, giving him her best smile.

She sat back and watched him walk away, her eyes focused on his rear. He was like a greek sculpture, that Arthur Pendragon. She would bow down to him any day—

"You could be a little less obvious, you know, Vivian."

She flushed as she quickly began to shuffle through her papers. "Yes, Ms. Nimueh."

Nimeuh, Creative Director of at least three of the magazines under Pendragon Publishing, stood at 5'7, looked every bit like a fashion model, and was Vivian's idol. She was powerful, successful…

"And button your top for god's sake, you pathetic disgrace to womenkind! I'm embarrassed to even look at you!"

And a total bitch.

"Yes ma'am." Vivian buttoned her shirt with stars in her eyes as Nimeuh glared at her. "It won't happen again."

"Be sure that it doesn't or I'll make sure you get thrown out," the older woman sneered.

"Of course," said Vivian, nodding.

Nimeuh glared at her one last time before walking away, her heels clicking against the tile floor.

Vivian sighed, turning to her computer screen as she unbuttoned the top button once more. After tonight, Arthur Pendragon wouldn't be able to keep his eye off her. She could almost taste the grapes and smell the Eucalyptus in her future.

* * *

"I want to go on the Ferris Wheel!"

Gwen laughed nervously, "Mordred, we've been on it five times. I think we should try something else, don't you?"

Her palms were getting sweaty again and she turned around to make sure they weren't being followed.

"Why do you keep looking behind you?" asked Mordred, raising a tiny eyebrow at her. "It's weird."

Gwen would never tell him. If she told him, he would know just how to terrorize her.

"It's nothing." She took a deep breath to calm herself, "Let's just—ahhhhh!"

"But I want to get a balloon from the clown—"

"Let's _go_ Mordred!" she said, a little more forcefully. "We can go get cotton candy or something."

Mordred ripped his hand out of her grasp and ran towards the clown. Gwen stayed rooted to the ground.

She was absolutely terrified of clowns.

She didn't know when the phobia started. I could have been when her friend Elaine forced her to watch IT. Or maybe if was after she watched that one episode of "Are you afraid of the dark". She wasn't entirely sure.

She watched Mordred get the balloon and come back, with a satisfied smile. "What's the matter, Gwen? You look scared."

"L-let's get out of here," she said, reaching for his hand. "Do you want to ride the Ferris Wheel with me again?"

"No, actually," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want to go anywhere with you. I want you to leave me and my father alone."

His voice was completely calm, like he was an executive giving an order.

"I've already told you," she said, just as calmly, "I'm not going anywhere. I like my job and I think you're an amazing kid. I truly believe that, with time, you'll grow to like me."

"I hate you," he said, his calm mask slipping. "I hate you and, after today, I will never see you again."

Gwen eyed him strangely. "What do you mean, Mordred?"

"I hid under your bed when you were talking to your friend, the one who came to our house."

Gwen blushed. Oh God. She hoped he hadn't been listening when she'd…

"You told him you hated carnivals," Mordred said, proudly.

"I don't understand." Gwen furrowed her brows. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Father tells me that people who hate things are sometimes afraid of them," Mordred continued. "Now I know what you're escared of. You're escared of clowns."

Gwen gulped. "I am not."

"Mr. Clown!" Mordred called.

Gwen hurriedly covered his mouth with her hand and pressed her fingers to her lips. "Okay! Okay! I'm afraid of clowns! Just… don't call it over here."

She removed her hand from his mouth and Mordred smirked at her.

"I win."

God, she was stupid. She should have known the moment he'd suggested the carnival that he was up to something. What on earth was she going to do now?

"I'm not leaving," she said, staring him in the eye. "If you call that clown over here, I'll just tell your father about it and he'll ground you again."

Mordred's smirk fell.

"You wouldn't," he said, eyes narrowing. "If you tell him, he'll know about the clowns."

"But you'll be grounded," she said with a victorious smile. "I'm sure you don't want that."

"I hate you!" screamed Mordred, causing her to flinch. "I hate you and I wish you would leave me and daddy alone!"

He ran away before Gwen could even respond, leaving her with an empty, foreboding feeling in her stomach.

* * *

"Vivian," Arthur said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "I said I would _help_. I didn't expect to do all the work myself."

Vivian shook her head. "You're not! I'm organizing your papers."

"You've been looking at the same sheet of paper for the last two hours." He raised an eyebrow. "And it's upside down."

"Oh," she mouthed, flushing.

Arthur sighed. "Look, Viv. I know you're more capable than this. I've already moved everything. Can you at least help me organize some of these files?"

Vivian nodded and made room for him on the office floor.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him.

"It's fine." He glanced at his watch. "I just need to hurry things along a bit. I told Guinevere and Mordred I'd be back at 8. It's already 7:00."

"Guinevere?" Her lips curled in disgust. "The smurf?"

"Smurfette," Arthur said without missing a beat. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak of her like that. If you gave her a chance, I'm sure you'd really like her. She's pretty… pretty great."

He coughed and hurriedly began shuffling through papers.

"If she's as great as you say, I'm sure she could wait a little while," Vivian said, placing her hand on his knee and squeezing it lightly. "This is obviously important."

"Vivian—"

"You must know why I asked you to come here." She moved her hand up his leg so it rested on the top of his thigh. "It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

"Uh—"

She leaned forward, so her mouth was but an inch away from his ear. "

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, before kissing him.

It happened so quickly, that his brain had little time to react. His body, however, seemed to react for him. Before he knew it, he was kissing her back. His hands tangled in her hair, his body pressed against hers.

It wasn't until she began unbuttoning his shirt that he realized what he was doing.

He pulled way, feeling absolutely ashamed of himself.

"What's wrong?" Vivian asked, out of breath. "Need to take a breather?"

"No," Arthur said, buttoning his shirt. "_This_ is what's wrong. I can't do this. You're my secretary!"

"You're lonely, Arthur, everyone here can see it," Vivian said, touching his shoulder. "You spend so much time worrying about your son and your company."

She tried to kiss him again, but he shook his head and stood up, picking up his suit jacket from the floor.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he said his eyes a bit cold. "And for your sake, we'll forget this ever happened. I've got to get home to my son."

Vivian watched, stunned as Arthur took his leave. Before now, no man had ever rejected her. This was going to be much harder than she thought.

Nimueh was going to throw a fit when she found out.

* * *

"Mordred!"

Oh god. Arthur was never going to forgive her for this. It was getting dark and she'd been searching for the boy for hours to no avail. She was beginning to believe there was no hope in finding him.

"Ok, think," she said, taking a deep breath. "Don't panic, just think. If I were Mordred, where would I go?"

She groaned. She'd searched every inch of the park, except the one place she wouldn't be caught dead in. However, now, she was almost certain that was where he was.

Gwen gulped as she approached the House of Horrors, a building with a giant, evil looking clown painted on the door and a DO NOT ENTER sign in front. She stood there for a while, her heart beating extremely fast.

She closed her eyes and opened the door as fast as she could, pushing her fears aside.

"Mordred? Where are you?"

She heard a muffled cry a few feet away from her and she ran in the direction of the sound.

"Mordred!" she shouted. "Are you okay?"

The crying became louder as she rounded the dark corner.

"I'm escared of the dark!" he cried. "Please get me out of here."

"Where is here—ahhh!"

Suddenly the wooden floor split beneath her and she was sent tumbling through the floor. Her phone fell out of her pocket and shattered as it hit the ground. When she landed, she let out a cry of pain. She was pretty sure she twisted her ankle.

Mordred looked up at her, his eyes wide. "Gwen?"

He was shaking with fear and she felt a wave of compassion for the boy. She gestured at him to come closer to her, and he crawled across the concrete floor and fell into her open arms.

"I'm sorry," he said, sniffling. "I shouldn't have run away!"

"It's okay, Mordred," she said, sighing. "You're okay, and that's all that really matters in the end. Just don't do something like that to me ever again, you hear me?"

He nodded against her chest and clung to her tightly.

"Is this why you have so many nightlights in your room?" she asked, resisting the urge to laugh. "You're afraid of the dark?"

He nodded and she pulled him closer. "Everyone's afraid of something. Fear is not something to be ashamed of. But it's also not something that should be used against someone."

"I thought you would never come here because of the clown on the door," Mordred admitted, sheepishly. "I didn't know it would be so dark. I fell through the floor."

Gwen then realized that the DO NOT ENTER sign at the front wasn't just for decoration. Sighing at her bad fortune, she pulled her keychain out of her pocket and turned on her mini flashlight. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. If she had used it before, she could have avoided this entire ordeal.

"I'm just going to check to see if you have any injuries," she said, rolling up his pant sleeves.

Mordred looked at her. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Helping me," he said, simply. "I did something bad to you today. I made fun of you. I got you stuck down this hole with me."

"No matter how much you may hate me, Mordred," she said, rolling his sleeves back down, "I don't hate you at all. I care about you, whether you like it or not."

He looked at her in awe, but said nothing.

"Mordred?" She stood up despite the pain and leaned against the wooden support beam. "I'm going to need you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

"I'm going to lift you back onto the floor. You're going to take this flashlight get out of here and call for help, alright?"

Mordred shook his head. "It's scary and dark up there."

"I know, sweetie, I know," she said, touching the top of his head. "But I know you can do this. You're a brilliant kid."

"What about you?" he asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I can't leave you here all my yourself in the dark. What if the monsters come?"

"I'll be okay, " she said, smiling. "So will you, Mordred."

She lifted him by the waist and hoisted him onto the floor. He looked down at her, looking petrified.

"It's alright," she reassured him, sinking back down onto the floor. "You'll be fine."

"Gwen," he said, tears coming to his eyes.

"Go," she said, closing her eyes and resting against the poll.

He nodded and ran as fast as could out of the building.

* * *

"Good evening, Charles," Arthur said as he got into his limo. "I hope you've had a much better day than I've had—"

"Sir," Charles said, turning around to face him. "The young master and Gwen were meant to be back by now. I haven't heard from them since."

Arthur sat up, feeling as though someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water over him.

"Where did they go?"

"The carnival, sir," he said, pulling away from the curb. "It's been closed for over an hour. I have no idea where they could—"

"What the hell are you waiting for? My son could be in danger and you're here just talking about it. Drive!"

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He pressed his foot on the gas and sped away as fast as he could towards the carnival.

Arthur pulled out his phone and started to dial Gwen's number. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

"Damn it, Guinevere!" Arthur shouted.

He dialed Merlin's number and tapped the windowsill anxiously until his friend picked up the phone.

"Merlin," Arthur said, his voice cracking. "Please tell me you've heard from Mordred or Gwen. Please tell me you know where they are…"

"Arthur, calm down," Merlin replied. "What's happened?"

"Charles says he hasn't heard from them all day, Merlin. Anything could have happened to them. They could have been kidnapped for ransom. You know all about the treats I receive daily," Arthur explained. "Oh god. If anything happens to either of them, I'll never forgive myself—"

"Don't think about that," said Merlin. "Go and look for them first before you assume the worst. Where was the last place they were seen?"

"They went to the carnival," said Arthur. "Gwen called me before they left to let me know. I haven't heard from her since."

"I'm on my way," said Merlin. "I'll tell someone to take care of my patients for a while. I'll meet you there."

"Thank you, Merlin."

"It's going to be just fine, Arthur."

Arthur shut off his phone and pressed his head against the seat. His child was in trouble and he'd been in his office, kissing his goddamned secretary. To say he'd failed as a parent was an understatement.

"We're here, sir," said Charles.

Arthur jumped out of the limo, through the carnival entrance. The sun was setting and the place seemed completely deserted. He continued to run around, looking frantically for any sign of his son.

"Mordred!" he shouted as he rounded a corner. "Mordred, where are you?"

He heard someone shouting in the distance and his heart soared. He ran in the direction of the sound, praying it wasn't just his imagination.

"Mordred!" he shouted again.

"Daddy, hurry!"

He caught sight of his son as he rounded the corner. His hair was disheveled and he was crying. Gwen was nowhere in sight.

Arthur knelt down and tightly enveloped his son in his arms, relief flooding through him.

"I was so worried," he said, smoothing his hand over his son's head. "I thought something awful had happened. Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"It's all my fault, Daddy," Mordred said, sniffling. "I ran away from Gwen. I wanted to get her fired. She came after me even though she's escared of clowns. She got me out of the hole, but she's still there!"

"Still where?"

Mordred grabbed his father's hand and ran in the direction of the House of Horrors and Arthur felt his heart drop for the second time that day.

"She's in there, Daddy," Mordred said, handing the flashlight to his father.

"I can't believe you came here of all places when you're afraid of the dark," Arthur said, opening the door. "Come on. Hold my hand."

Mordred grasped his hand tightly as they crossed the threshold and entered the building.

"Guinevere?" Arthur shouted. "Where are you?"

"Is that you, Arthur?" Gwen shouted back before laughing. "I knew the boy was brilliant, but I didn't think he'd be able to get you here. How'd he manage it?"

Arthur spotted the hole through the floor using his flashlight and knelt at the edge. Gwen sat in the corner, resting her back against the wooden pole. Her leg was positioned at an odd angle.

"Gwen—"

"You know," she said, chuckling, "you don't pay me nearly enough for this."

"I'm going to get you out of here," he said, taking off his suit jacket. "Don't worry."

"You rolled up your sleeves again," she said, smiling serenely. "Perfect."

"Who knows what you're breathing in down there?" Arthur mused.

He pressed his body to the ground end moved his torso over the edge.

"I'll hold your feet," said Mordred.

"Thanks, son," he said, reaching his arms out. "Gwen, if you stand up, I think I can lift you out of the hole."

"Alright," she said, using the pole to get to her feet. "But I warn you, I'm not very light. I wouldn't want you to break your arms."

"It's amazing that you can still joke around when you're obviously in pain," he said as she hopped over to him.

"Oh, I already cried my eyes out before you got here," she said, shaking her head. As she grabbed his arms. "I've never twisted, sprained, or broken anything before. It hurts like hell. Don't judge me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arthur said, smirking. "I already have the clown phobia to make fun of. I don't think I need anything else."

"Damn you, Arthur Pendragon," she scoffed. "When I get out of this hole, I'll—"

He lifted her up mid-sentence, and planted her gently beside him on the wooden floor.

"You were saying?"

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Oh god! I thought I'd never get out of there! I swear there was a spider on me at some point and I thought a clown would come get me—"

"Well, you're safe now," Arthur said, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I won't let any clowns get the upper hand."

"Now you're just poking fun at me." She pulled away, glaring at him playfully. "I suppose it's payback for this morning, huh."

"You got me," he said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Now let's get you two out of here."

He hooked one arm under her knee and placed the other on her back. Gwen blushed.

"I can hobble fine on my own, Arthur," she mumbled. "I don't need you to—"

"Well frankly," he said, holding her against his chest, "I don't care. I said I'd get you out of here, remember? I take my promises very seriously."

She was surprised her entire body didn't just melt into the ground.

"Yes, _sir_," she said, her voice a bit husky.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she turned away, feeling even more embarrassed.

"Right, then." Arthur cleared his throat. "Let's get you guys home."

* * *

"You're going to have to keep off of that leg for at least four days, young lady," said Merlin when he was finished wrapping her leg.

They were all in the living room of the mansion where Arthur, Merlin, and even Mordred were all staring at her reproachfully.

"Honestly!" she huffed, crossing her arms around her chest. "You'd think I jumped into that hole on purpose or something!"

"I've spoken to Morgana," said Arthur, tapping her shoulder reassuringly. "She said she'll be here to help take care of you."

"I'm not an invalid, Arthur—"

"Auntie Morgana's coming?"

"Mmhm," said Arthur nodding to his son. "So you'd better be on your best behavior."

"I love Auntie!" he said smiling. "Do you think she'll bring me some more skittles?"

"I hope not, for our sakes," said Arthur solemnly. "And I don't know why you're so excited. You've gotten yourself grounded for your behavior, remember?"

"I know…" Mordred said frowning.

"Good," Arthur said. "There's some ice cream bars in the fridge if you want some. I know they're your favorite."

Mordred ran into the kitchen as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"You're such a softie," Merlin said.

"I wasn't the one who cried after watching we watched _The Notebook_," Arthur said without missing a beat.

Gwen giggled. "So you're both admitting that you watched _The Notebook_?"

Silence.

"Look at the time," Merlin said, looking at his watch. "I suppose I should be going now. Take care, you two. Don't take advantage of the cripple, Arthur. I know she's beautiful, but—"

Arthur sent him a death glare. "Weren't you just leaving?"

"You see how he treats me?" He winked at Gwen. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do—"

"Goodbye Merlin," said Arthur. "Thank you so much for today."

Merlin nodded. "See you all tomorrow. I've got to get back to my girl—I mean, my job."

As he walked hurriedly out of the door, Gwen and Arthur looked at each other and began to laugh.

"He really is adorable," Gwen said, wiping her eyes. "Can I keep him?"

"I don't think he's housetrained," Arthur said shaking his head. "Besides, I think he'd drive you up the wall after a few days."

"I know you guys love each other a lot."

"He might as well be my brother," Arthur said. "Though I'm not sure I'd want his idiocy mucking up the Pendragon gene pool."

Gwen laughed, shoving him playfully.

"So," she said after a pause. "How'd your date with the blonde go?"

"Watch who you're talking to," he said, pointing at his own golden locks. "It wasn't a date. We just organized my office."

He didn't know why he felt like he had to lie to her about it. Perhaps he was ashamed that he'd allowed it to happen at all.

"How was the kiss?"

Arthur shrugged. "Not the best I've—hey!"

"Works every time," Gwen said, with a satisfied smirk. "She's beautiful, I don't blame you, even if she is a witch."

"She threw herself at me!" Arthur protested. "Besides, she's not my type. She's incredibly rude. You should have heard what she said about…"

"About what?"

"Nothing," Arthur said, shaking his head. "She's just not my type."

"Fair enough."

She'd wanted to ask him just what his type was, but she stopped herself before she could ask.

"I'm going to miss my comfy bed," she said, frowning a bit. "And I'm going to hate sitting here doing nothing for the next few days."

"I'd kill for such an opportunity," said Arthur, gawking at her. "Work sucks."

"I honestly can't say I hate my job," Gwen mused. "It definitely keeps me on my toes."

"Not exactly," Arthur said, looking at her cast.

"Oh, you're so clever," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "You just wait until I get back on my feet."

"Uh huh," Arthur said, sitting down on the couch next to her. "Lay down."

"I can't lay down with you sitting next to me." She looked at him oddly. "There's not nearly enough space."

Arthur gently pulled her forward so that her head rested on his lap.

"Uh, sir?"

"You risked your life for my son today," Arthur said seriously. "I'm eternally grateful to you for doing that. Anything you want, anything you need, all you have to do is ask."

"But this is unprofessional—"

"Screw professionalism," Arthur said, a bit louder than he wished. "Even though I pay you, you've become a valued friend. You don't have to feel so formal towards me."

"Alright," she said warily.

"Just relax and go to sleep," said Arthur. "I'm the softest pillow around, I promise you."

"I don't doubt it." She yawned. "Good night, Arthur. Thank you for offering your wonderfully comfortable lap for my sleeping pleasure. You are a true friend indeed."

"Thanks. I try."

As she fell asleep, Arthur leaned back, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd definitely lied to Gwen when he'd said she'd become his valued friend. She'd definitely become a bit of a fixture in his life and he was becoming far too emotionally dependent on her.

And sometimes… well all the time, really, he found himself stunned by her quiet beauty. She wasn't a bombshell like Vivian yet, to him, she was much more attractive.

That was it. He found her attractive. It was harmless, really. He was a man, after all. He couldn't help it if the sight of her in boy shirts made him want to slam her against the wall and kiss her senseless. Uh huh, nothing out of the ordinary there.

And so what if he found her easy to talk to and actually valued her opinions? They were friends after all. Isn't that what friends—?

She turned a little so that she was sleeping on her back. Her nightdress, which was clearly too big for her, slipped off one of her shoulders, falling dangerously low against her chest. If it had fallen any further…

Taking a deep breath, Arthur hooked his finger under the sleeve and slowly pulled it back over her shoulder, feeling ashamed of himself.

Oh, _God. _He would be in some real trouble if he didn't get his act together soon.

Mordred huffed as he stared at the ceiling. His father had not even come to tuck him in. He was too busy taking care of Gwen.

He had to admit; he had been a bit concerned for his nanny. She wasn't really all that bad. She was actually kind of nice…

But he really didn't care if she was nice. She was cutting into his daddy time, and he didn't mess around with daddy time.

He would lay off the pranks for a few days as she recovered. She needed time to get better and he needed time to come up with a new plan.

He pulled a piece of piece of paper out of a drawer near his beside and tucked it under his pillow. He would begin phase 1 tomorrow, right after his Auntie Morgana brought him his skittles.

Because no evil plan was complete without skittles.

* * *

Teehee. It took me forever, but here's chapter 5! It's a little longer than usual because I had quite a bit to get through. Though you might kill me for bringing Vivian in, I assure you she wasn't just brought in to stir up tension. Morgana's coming next chapter and she's bringing a friend along with her. There might be more Merlin next chapter if I can fit it in.

As always, please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Miki-hime

P.S.: The title of this song comes from the song "It's all downhill from here" by Amy Kuney and Tim Myers.


	6. Lay All Your Love On Me

Lay All Your Love On Me

Arthur awoke to the sound of a camera shutter going at rapid speed. The bright lights disoriented him for a second before he realized what was going on.

"No flash photography inside the house!" he mumbled sleepily. "You're not even getting my good side."

The flashes stopped and were followed by a snort.

"Sometimes your vanity astounds even me, Arthur."

He jumped up at the sound of the voice.

"Morgana? What are you doing here so early?"

His raven-haired sister stood above him, hands on hips, wearing a baby pink mini-dress and brown knee-high boots, not a hair out of place.

"Early?" She snorted again. "It's nearly 10 am, Arthur."

"Oh _fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…_ sunshine, rainbows, and _unicorns!"_

He hadn't noticed Mordred was there too, clinging to Morgana's leg, eating a bag of skittles.

"What did I say about the skittles?" Arthur said. "You _know_ they make him diabolical."

"I have no idea _what_ you're talking about!" Morgana said, smiling at her nephew. "My little angel is nothing short of genius."

"Angel? I think n-n-not."

At sometime throughout the previous night, he had switched from a sitting position to lying position. Gwen's arms were wrapped loosely around his waist, her body pressed lightly against his.

"Ah, you've finally noticed the elephant in the room. Took you long enough."

"I don't see an elephant!" Mordred exclaimed, looking around the room eagerly. "You brought me an elephant too?"

"No," Morgana said. "Auntie is just playing with your endearing dunce of a father who's taking advantage of his poor, cute little crippled nanny."

"I'm not taking advantage!"

"Really?" Morgana pointed at Gwen's non-injured leg that was draped over his thigh. "I beg to differ."

"If anything, she's taking advantage of me!"

"I don't think anyone wearing a little mermaid night dress could take advantage of anyone."

Arthur quickly disentangled himself from his nanny, his body missing the warmth she provided.

"You happy?"

She patted her camera. "Of course. I have enough blackmail material for a decade. I thought you and Merlin's slumber party was a gold mine, but somehow, this is even better."

Mordred giggled. "Slumber parties are for girls, father!"

"It was _not_ a slumber party," Arthur insisted, glaring at his sister. "We watched Die Hard and Bad Boys. Very manly, macho types of movies, thank you very much."

"Atonement and 27 Dresses are _manly_ movies?"

"No," Arthur said. "We were just trying to deconstruct the female psyche through the medium of film."

"Riiight." Morgana and Mordred perched themselves on the coffee table at exactly the same time. "Where is Merlin, anyway?"

"With his girlfriend," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "He still hasn't allowed me to meet her."

"Girlfriend?" Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Our Merlin is growing up!"

"'Our Merlin' is older than you."

There was a very loud thud behind them and Morgana, Arthur and Mordred turned around to locate the source of the sound.

Gwen was scrawled against the floor, holding her head in her hands.

"Ow," she said, pressing her fingers against her forehead.

Arthur rushed over to her, examining her forehead with deft fingers.

"It's not bleeding," he told her. "I don't even think you'll have a bump."

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Thanks, Dr. Pendragon."

Morgana rolled her eyes.

"Oh my _God_, the UST is killing me."

"What is UST?" Gwen and Mordred asked at the same time.

"Nothing." Arthur glared at Morgana. "Someone just needs to lay off the TV troupes."

He helped Gwen to her feet and let placed her gently on the couch.

"You're Morgana!" Gwen exclaimed. "I'm Guinevere. Most people just call me Gwen, except for your brother."

"I wonder why." She ignored her brother's glare. "I think, besides Mordred, you're just about the cutest thing I've ever seen. "

"Thanks." Gwen said, smiling. "I kind of get that a lot. Even though I'm turning twenty-three this year…"

"Goodness, you're just a baby!"

She gave another very pointed look at Arthur who threw his arms up in indignation.

"I'm almost twenty-nine! Quit looking at me like I'm some kind of cradle robber!"

Gwen blushed and Morgana smirked.

"Now why would I call you something like that?"

"This is what she does," said Arthur, looking at Gwen. "She makes you think and say things to satisfy her childish need for drama."

"Says the closeted Grey's Anatomy fan."

"I was helping Merlin study for his boards!"

"Please! That show focuses more on hook-ups than medical diagnoses!"

"Well… you still play Pokémon!"

"Damn proud of it!"

"Gwen," Mordred whispered as he backed away from his aunt to sit next to her. "I'm scared."

"Me too," Gwen answered, eyes wide. "Just look away."

* * *

Merlin buttoned up his shirt with a huge goofy grin on his face.

"Have I ever told you that you're the perfect girlfriend?"

"I think that's why I jumped you in the first place."

"Damn," he said, sighing. "I honestly thought it would work a second time."

"You silly, silly boy." She winked. "How long are you going to be working?"

"I get off at 5, but Morgana's in town. I promised I'd come see her and check up on Gwen."

"Oh."

"I'll be back before—"

"No." She placed her hand on his chest. "Go have fun. I'm not going to let you stay here with me when your friends have invited you to stay with them. I'll have plenty to do here. Galehut is fab company. He's my new GBF."

"GBF?"

"Gay best friend." Freya rolled her eyes. "If you didn't live in the 80s, you'd get it."

Merlin placed his hand over his heart in faux shock. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't live in the eighties. You know I have a rule about speaking in acronyms."

"You have so many rules that I've lost count."

There sat together in comfortable silence. Merlin sat up against the headboard and Freya lay in his arms, a content smile on her face.

"I wish we could stay like this forever."

"We can't, Merlin. I'm—"

"Don't say it."

"Not saying it doesn't make it any less real."

"I know."

She sat up, looking at him with a serious expression.

"I want you to start planning ahead. I want you to see other women so that when I die you'll be able to get over me—"

He kissed her before she could finish. She placed her trembling hands on his cheeks as she began to cry. He pulled away as her entire body shook with pent up anguish.

"Don't you _dare_ belittle yourself like that!" He lifted her chin with his finger. "You think I can replace you, that I'll forget about you? I think about you every moment of every day, Freya. I wonder how on Earth I'll be able to move on when you leave me. I feel helpless. I'm angry that something like this has to happen to someone like you. I feel all of these things because I love you and I could never possibly forget you."

"You…love me?"

"Yeah," he smiled boyishly. "I do."

She smiled through her tears and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Are you just saying that because you got into my pants?"

"Woman, I practically _live_ in your pants." He winked. "I don't need false professions of love."

She giggled.

"I love you too, Merlin. "

"Then promise me you'll never say anything about planning ahead. I've got limited time, and I don't want to spend it thinking about the future. I want to live in the now. I want to cherish every moment I have with you."

"I promise."

"Good." He sat up, pulling on his white jacket. "Watch out for that Galehut. He'll tell you things about me that aren't true. He's jealous of my bone structure—"

"He told me he was jealous of _Arthur's _bone structure."

"I see he's gotten to you already."

* * *

"Tomatoes are not vegetables!"

"Of courses they—"

"ENOUGH!"

Both Morgana and Arthur turned to Gwen, open-mouthed.

"Honestly, who cares? You guys are seeing each other for the first time in a while and this is how you behave! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Yeah!" said Mordred, nodding his little head in agreement. " 'shamed!"

"Now I'm going to leave you alone to think about what you've done!"

Gwen stood up and began to hop away slowly.

Arthur and Morgana caught up with her in less than three strides, each grabbing one of her arms and dragging her back to the chair.

"Sorry, Gwen," said Arthur, looking ashamed of himself. "I suppose we got carried away. We're siblings; this is just how we communicate."

"God, you're worse than our mother. She used to hate the way we argued." Morgana cocked her head to the side. "Come to think of it, you remind me a lot of her. She used to brighten a room with her presence"

"She sounds like a wonderful person," said Gwen, smiling.

"She is," said Arthur. "Mordred and I are visiting her sometime next month. You can meet her then if you'd like."

"Lovely." Gwen clapped her hands together. "She can tell me all about how you were as a child. I love hearing baby stories."

Arthur's smile dropped and Morgana placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Neither of them corrected Gwen on her mistake.

"Aren't you going to work today, daddy?" asked Mordred.

"Oh…shamrocks!"

"Shamrocks?" Gwen asked.

"Daddy doesn't like to curse in front of me so he says silly things instead to trick me," Mordred explained.

Arthur ruffled his son's hair, ignoring his protests.

"Nothing gets past you, Mor."

"You should go get dressed, daddy," Mordred said, pushing his father forward with his little hands. "You wouldn't want to miss work."

"And you wouldn't want to miss school, either," Arthur said, smirking. "Don't forget, you got your intelligence from your father. Now, come on. Let's get you dressed."

"Shamrocks!" Mordred said, realizing he'd been caught.

They both disappeared behind the archway to the dining room, leaving Gwen and Morgana by themselves.

"I like you Gwen but, if you're only after my brother's money, I'll kill you."

The change in Morgana's demeanor startled Gwen and she felt chills travel down her spine from the glare she was sending her.

"Your brother pays me pretty well, lets me stay in his house, and is a very good friend. I already have more than I ever imagined for myself," said Gwen, placing a reassuring hand on Morgana's thigh. "I'm not going to be a nanny forever. I'm just going to stay here long enough to get back on my feet."

"I'm sorry." Morgana sighed. "Arthur's been through hell already with his wife and Mordred. I don't want him to suffer any more."

"You love him. I understand."

"Let's not get carried away," Morgana warned, looking disgusted.

Gwen decided she really liked Arthur's abrasive younger sister. She was so beautiful and clearly rich that she could have easily been a stereotypical spoiled rich girl, but she was nothing of the sort. It was obvious to Gwen that she was a very kind person despite all her efforts to appear tough as nails

"Thank you for coming here to look after me, Morgana," Gwen finally said. "I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

"No problem," Morgana said, waving a hand dismissively. "I figure, I help you, you help me."

Gwen's heart sank and Morgana grabbed her hands and stared into her brown eyes imploringly.

"I promise we'll definitely hang out later today. I just have to pick up my boyfriend from the airport first and smuggle him into one of the guest rooms—"

"Why on Earth would you have to do something like that? Why don't you just tell Arthur that you'd like your boyfriend to stay here with you?"

Morgana snorted.

"You mean I should tell Arthur the truth? The last time Alvarr and Arthur met, Arthur broke Alvarr's nose. He couldn't model for a _year_. If Arthur finds out he's here… I don't want to even think about what might happen."

Gwen still didn't think it was a good idea. She'd watched enough sitcoms to know that set ups like these rarely ended well. However, despite her misgivings, she felt an irrational urge to help the younger Pendragon.

"Fine. I promise I won't say anything."

Morgana squealed. "Thank you. You'll love him, I know you will. In the mean time, Mordred said he'd called one of your friends to come look after you today. I'm not sure why he did it, but call it lucky. Mordred also doesn't know about my boyfriend, so let's keep that on the DL as well."

"Your secret's safe with me." Gwen sighed and lay back against the pillow. "Why do I have the feeling this is going to blow up in my face?"

"It won't," Morgana insisted. "You won't even notice he's here. I'll stay with you during the day and he'll stay upstairs. I've already tipped off security. I'll stay with him once Arthur gets home. It's foolproof."

"What's foolproof?"

Arthur stood in the kitchen, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing a crisp red button down shirt and black slacks with a matching black tie.

"Well don't you look debonair!" Morgana said, smiling widely. "It's the stylist's day off. Did you bribe Merlin to pick out your outfit?"

"Nice deflection," he said, smoothing his hand over his hair and looking at his reflection in the glass doors. "Mordred actually picked this one out for me. He said red is one my colors."

Gwen had to agree. Red was_ definitely_ his color. She couldn't stop staring. He looked like…like…

"You look like a chocolate covered strawberry," she blurted out.

"Uh… thanks?" Arthur said, giving her a strange look.

Gwen sank into her chair as Morgana laughed uproariously. Why couldn't she just say he looked handsome?

"I meant to say that you look nice," she amended, blushing. "For the record, I like strawberries."

"No, that's fine." He winked. "It's nice to know I look good enough to eat."

_Indeed._ Gwen thought, raising an eyebrow.

"Daddy, let's go! If you're not going to let me stay home, please don't make me miss snack time!"

"Alright, Alright." Arthur gestured to the girls. "Say goodbye to Gwen and your Auntie Morgana."

He rushed over and gave Morgana a hug.

"Bye Auntie Morgana!"

His smile dropped as he looked at Gwen.

"Witch."

Gwen sighed. She'd thought they were making progress.

Arthur sent her a sympathetic look before saying, "I'll be back around 5:30. Feel free to order food or whatever. Don't do anything stupid Morgana, or I will know."

Morgana put on her best outraged face. "You have such little faith in me."

"I have experience." He looked at Gwen. "Try to enjoy yourself. If I hear you stepped one foot out of that chair without assistance, I'm adding an extra day to your sentence."

"Yes, father." She smiled. "Go, you're going to be late for work."

He smiled back. "See you at eight."

"Have a good day at work."

She watched him as he rounded the corner, and Morgana watched her with interest.

"My brother adores you," she said after pondering a little. "I've never seen him look this chummy with…well, anyone, really."

"We just have a good rapport, that's all," Gwen said. "We respect each other."

"Uh huh." Morgana stood up, looking down at Gwen mischievously. "And you've obviously got the hots for my brother—"

"Morgana, I'm already dating someone," Gwen interrupted. "And I don't have feelings for your brother. We're just friends."

Morgana smirked and handed her a photo from her purse.

"Not according to Mr. Polaroid, you're not."

Gwen took the picture, eying Morgana strangely.

"Who even uses Polaroids any— oh my…"

If the tabloids ever got a hold of this picture, she would be ruined. They would probably coin a clever name for her such as "The Household Hussy" or "Naughty Nanny" or worse. Judging by the way her leg was hooked over Arthur's thigh, she honestly wouldn't blame them.

"You can keep that one. I've got plenty more for blackmail purposes," said Morgana, patting down her dress. "I'm going to go pick up Alvarr now. I'll be back in a couple hours, I promise."

Gwen stuck the photo in her bra, still blushing.

"Alright."

"Your friend should be here shortly, I think." She looked down at her watch and gasped. "I've got to run. See you later!"

She ran towards the door before Gwen could respond.

When she was sure Morgana had left, Gwen hopped out of the chair and began her very slow journey to her room. If she was going to have company, she might as well look her best.

* * *

Mordred was angry. He'd just missed snack time, his absolute favorite part of the day. He'd been looking forward to trading his peanut butter and banana sandwich for a pack of HO-OHS.

It was a good thing he hadn't missed recess or there would be hell to pay.

He used to hate recess. Mostly because…he didn't really have any friends. He'd always been too smart for his age and, to other seven year olds, smart often equaled strange.

He'd started liking it the day before yesterday when he'd met _her_. Niniane. Annie for short.

Mordred had never understood girls before. Before his father corrected him, he'd thought they were aliens. He later amended his beliefs and kept thinking of them as demons of the underworld. His Auntie Morgana had always been the only exception.

Annie was another. She chestnut colored hair, which she always pulled up in a high ponytail, and wide, clear green eyes. He'd never spoken to her. He'd just seen her that one time and hoped he'd see her again today.

He scanned the playground for a while before he spotted her sitting near a patch of honeysuckles. His heart started to race a bit and he didn't know why. Perhaps she was a witch like his nanny.

He stood up and walked over to where she was sitting.

"Are you a witch?" he asked her.

She looked up, startled. "No. I'm Annie."

"I know." He sat next to her. "I'm—"

"Mordred," she finished for him. "Everyone knows who you are."

"Then why don't they ever talk to me?"

"Why don't you ever talk to them?"

Mordred shrugged. No one had ever asked him that before.

"They're scared of you," she continued, looking up at him. "They're scared because you always know everything."

He paused before asking, "Are you scared of me?"

She shook her head.

"No." She giggled. "You're not very scary at all. I like you."

"You do?"

She picked a honeysuckle from the ground and handed it to him.

"Here. I put a spell on it. This means we're friends now."

"I thought you said you weren't a witch!"

"I'm not, silly." She laid back in the grass and patted the space next to her. "It's recess. You can be anything you want to be. You've got to use your imagimination! It's fun!"

Mordred lay down next to her and stared at the clouds.

"See," Annie interjected after a few moments, "that cloud just above me looks like a teddy bear. That one over there looks like a fairy."

"That one… that one looks like a crayon," he said, pointing to a cloud on the left.

She giggled. "It's fun isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered. "It really is—"

"Annie!"

She and Mordred sat up as they heard the voice. A tall blond boy ran towards them, holding a dodge ball in his hands.

"You ready to play dodge ball?" he asked, glancing nervously at Mordred for a second.

"Sure." She stood up and dusted the grass off her shorts. "You should come too, Mordred."

"He _can't_," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "We already have enough people."

"Come on, Gareth, you know that's not—"

"Let's _go_ Annie," he said, grabbing the crook of her arm and dragging her away.

"See you later Mordred!" she called back as Gareth pulled her towards the west end of the playground.

Mordred gave her a small wave before he sunk back to the ground, feeling his heart do summersaults in his chest.

It would have been much easier for him if she really _was_ an alien.

* * *

The doorbell rang as Gwen hopped down the last step. She nodded at the butler to get the door and brushed off her bright red summer dress in preparation for her visitor. She honestly felt like she was going on a blind date.

"You're a cripple and you can't even call me? God, I feel like a horrible person…"

Gwen couldn't stop herself from smiling when she heard Lance's voice. She'd talked to him on her cell phone less than three days ago, yet it felt like it'd been ages since they'd talked.

"My cell phone shattered after I fell through the floor of a haunted house. My boss said he'll get me a new one."

She gestured for him to come in and he followed her as she hobbled back to the living room.

"I'm not even going to ask why you were at The House of Horrors when you told me how much you hate carnivals," he said once they sat down on the couch.

"It was Mordred." She sighed, picking up the remote. "The kid hates my guts. Which sucks because looking after him is kind of my job."

Lancelot shrugged. "I don't know, Gwen. He's the one that called me so he can't be that bad."

She smiled as she sat back against his chest. The warmth of his chest had been sorely missed.

"What would you like to watch?" she asked as she began surfing through the channels. "There's Die Hard, Cloverfield, The Dark Knight…Oh, Moulin Rouge! My favorite—"

She paused when she realized how close they were. He'd leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her lips.

"We've got the house to ourselves and you want to watch a movie?

The universe was really testing her restraint today. First Arthur in red and now _this_?

"I promised my boss there would be no more kissing in the house," she told him.

He leaned in even closer and the remote fell out of her hands and clattered on the floor below.

"He'll never know," he said, smiling devilishly. "Unless you tell him."

"Screw it," she said as she closed the very small gap between their lips.

She'd never done anything like this before. Her father always told her she would make a horrible spy. The closest she'd ever gotten to sneaking around was staying up late at night to read Harry Potter. She was usually a very by the books kind of person.

But today, she felt adventurous. With her injured leg, she already felt like a war hero. Morgana's secret made her feel like a spy and making out on her bosses couch, of all places, made her feel like a femme fatale in one of those Noir films.

After a few moments, he seized control and she found her back being pushed against the armrest of the couch. She gasped in shock and pain. She was sure there was going to be a bruise after this.

It wasn't until she felt his hand slip under her dress and up her inner thigh that the alarms started going off in her head.

"Stop," she said, pressing her hands firmly on his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked, getting off of her and sitting up on the couch. "Did I do something wrong?"

"This is only the third time I've seen you. We're not even official," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is all going way too fast. You still haven't told me what you're hiding. I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don't just sleep with men I know nothing about!"

She wanted to stand up and make a dramatic exit, but she remembered how well that'd worked when she tried it earlier. Instead, she crossed her arms and send him a very stern glare.

"Alright," Lance said, running his fingers through his hair. "I guess I'm a bit out of practice. I've only been with—"

"With who?"

Oh god. He'd told her he was straight as a board. She wasn't sure if she could deal with another guy coming out to her. It would be yet another blow to her self esteem.

"…Groupies," he said after a long pause.

"Groupies?" She cringed. "Why on Earth would you have groupies? You're handsome, I'll give you that, but to have groupies you'd have to be…famous…"

Gwen gasped.

It all made sense now. The odd glances when they went out, the infrequent dates, the short phone calls, his stellar looks…

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, holding her head in her hands. "I just made out with a movie star?"

"International pop star, actually," he corrected, sheepishly. "I was really surprised when you didn't know who I was. Come to think of it, there was a billboard of me right behind you when we met."

"I'm not the most observant person, as you can see." She groaned. "I guess this is the price I pay for staying in my own little bubble. God, you must think me an idiot."

"No." He shook his head. "I think you're one of a kind. I think you're beautiful and clever. I think you're perfect."

Gwen looked even more mortified.

"I thought you were in the mafia," she said, groaning again. "I thought you had this horrible dark secret, but you're really just way out of my league."

"Hey," he said, encircling his hand around her wrist. "Don't say that. This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to get self-conscious."

"You've probably made out beautiful, women with perfect bodies. " She looked down at her own stomach. "I finished an entire bag of Kit Kats yesterday…"

He smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

She sighed. "Where's Ashton Kutcher when you need him?"

"Making horrible movies and creepy camera commercials that haunt my dreams," Lance said, cringing.

"Is Lance even your real name?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"My stage name is Lancelot. But Lance du Lac is my real name. "

She snorted. "That's incredibly creative of you."

"My agent's idea, not mine," he said. "All the cool names were already taken."

They say in silence for a while before Gwen, once again remembered the dilemma she was in.

"We've been seen together already," she said slowly. "At the coffee shop—"

"I own the coffee shop," he told her. "Everyone there has been sworn to secrecy. I own a bunch of places. Movie theatres, shopping malls, a theme park, an island—"

"I can't do this." Gwen stood up. "It's too much. I'm dirt poor. I'm a nobody. You have anything you could ever want and I can't offer you a thing!"

"I like you," he said, holding her hand to his chest. "My heart always beats a little bit faster when I'm with you. My palms get sweaty and I can't say half the cool things I want to say to you."

"You actually do pretty well for yourself. "

"Thanks." He moved closer. "Does that mean we can pick off where we left off?"

"Not a chance in hell," she said sweetly, moving away from him. "I'm still the same girl. That doesn't change because you're a superstar. "

"So, what are you saying?"

Gwen sighed. She knew she should be jumping around like an excited teenager at a Jonas Brother's concert, but she couldn't help but feel a little odd about the whole thing. Was she supposed to believe that out of all the beautiful girls he could have chosen, he'd really chose an ordinary girl like her?

"This is quite a lot to deal with, Lance, you've got to admit," she finally said, looking at him with an apology in her eyes.

"I understand." He moved his thumb across her wrist. "What would you like me to do?"

"I'd really like it if you'd just watch a movie with me. No kissing. Let's just sit together and have a good time. One step at a time."

"Alright. Pick any movie_ except_ Moulin Rouge." He stood up. "Where's the bathroom?"

"The closest one is through the kitchen and to the left."

He nodded and followed her directions to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and pressed a small button on the side. Then he pulled out his cell phone, pressed the number "5", and held the phone up to his ear.

"How's the girl?" asked the voice on the other line. "Have you charmed her yet?"

"She didn't take the bait," Lancelot said. "She's actually upset to hear I'm famous. I don't think I've met anyone like her—"

"You better not be falling for her. You need to remain in control of the situation. Make her fall for you. That was the plan. If you don't stick to it—"

"I know. I just need a month or two. Please," Lancelot pleaded. "Don't go back on our deal."

"Lance! How about Little Miss Sunshine?" asked Gwen's muffled voice from the living room.

"That sounds great!" he shouted back.

"Don't go back on your end of the deal and I certainly won't go back on mine," the voice responded after a moment "I know how desperate you are."

The line went dead and Lancelot pocketed the phone and walked out of the bathroom with a smile on his face. The sooner he did as he was told, the sooner he could be at ease again.

If he had to trample over the feelings of some silly girl, then so be it.

* * *

Mordred came home at five. He'd sat in the library to get all his homework done and play Pacman on some of the old computers. He wanted to give Lance enough time with Gwen.

From all the television he'd watched over the years, he'd learned that the best way to keep a girl from a boy was to let that girl spend time with _another _boy. He'd snuck into Gwen's purse and found a piece of paper with Lance's number and told him about her injury.

If his calculations were correct, Lance was supposed to carry his nanny away on a white horse off into the sunset, where Mordred would never have to see her kind-of pretty face again.

The house was empty when he came home and for a moment, he thought he'd succeeded.

"Mordred?"

He turned around to find Gwen sitting on the steps, her leg propped up on a pillow. She pulled herself up using the railing and before he knew it, she'd wrapped her arms around him.

"I was so worried," she said breathlessly. "You always come home at two o'clock! Where on Earth were you and why didn't you tell me?"

He wanted to tell her to get off of him, to leave him alone so he could go to his room, but he found himself melting into her protective arms.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he found himself saying. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Of course you didn't," she said, pulling away from him. "Just make sure you tell me next time, alright?"

Mordred nodded and helped her to her feet. His action surprised the both of them, but neither said a word.

They plopped onto the couch and Mordred promptly removed his arm from around Gwen's waist. The woman clearly had magical powers.

"So what took you so long?" She smiled, turning to him. "Was it a girl?"

"No." He said quickly. "I just wanted to do my homework in the library."

"Pull it out so I can check it." She said, holding her hand out.

He reached into his backpack and handed her his homework.

"What if I did like a girl?" he asked as she leafed through his papers. "I _don't. _But what if I did? What should I do?"

A smile spread across Gwen's face as she looked up from his folder.

"Find out what she likes," she said. "Maybe make something for her. Be her friend, and be yourself and the rest should come naturally. That's what I would tell you to do _if_ you liked a girl. But you don't."

"I don't." He repositioned his backpack. "I think I'll draw her a picture."

"Who?"

Morgana just walked in and winked at Gwen as she plopped down on the couch next to her.

"Who do I have to fight for your affections, Mordred?" she asked, pulling the boy into her lap.

"No one, Auntie Morgana."

"Really? I think you're lying."

She began tickling him before he could respond and he ran away from her, squealing with laughter.

Gwen watched them. She wasn't this close to any of her relatives except her own father. She wasn't quite used to how close the members of the Pendragon family seemed to be. It was almost unnatural.

She hated to admit it, but she was almost jealous of how easily Mordred and Morgana seemed to get along. Her relationship with Mordred was progressing at a snail's pace. She wasn't sure if he would ever like her even. She wasn't going to be his nanny forever, but she wanted their time together to be fun, not wrought with terror and pain on her part.

Morgana returned once Mordred ran towards his room to escape her onslaught.

"Thank you so much for today," Morgana said, sitting down next to her. "Alvarr is in the guest room next to mine and Arthur has no idea. It's all thanks to you."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did Arthur break Alvarr's nose?" Gwen asked, sitting up. "He can't have just done it because he felt like it. He must have had a reason for it."

"He said he was a skirt chaser," Morgana told her, rolling her eyes. "Said he caught Alvarr kissing Emmyria, one of my model friends at the time. Arthur's had a horrible track record when it comes to my boyfriends so I don't really take him seriously."

"If he asks, I had absolutely nothing to do with this thing," Gwen said. "I didn't help you or anything."

"In Arthur's eyes you can do no wrong, trust me," Morgana reassured her. "He thinks the world of you. Which is strange. He told me he didn't think you'd last the first week—"

Morgana covered her mouth with both hands, but the damage was already done.

"Really?" Gwen's heart sank into her stomach. "Arthur really said that about me?"

"What did I say about you?"

Morgana and Gwen turned to see Arthur standing in the kitchen with Merlin in tow. The latter gave a small wave.

"Merlin! How wonderful it is to see you!" Morgana exclaimed as she jumped up and ran to Merlin's side. "I've got the Wii set up in my room if you'd like to play Super Smash Brothers. Though, as we both know, I'll totally kick your ass."

"But I wanted to—"

"I _really_ want to play," she said, gripping his arm more fiercely. "Let's _go_."

She dragged him away leaving Gwen and Arthur alone.

"Since I've been here," Gwen began, sitting up in her chair, "I've been burned, sprayed with paint, terrorized by clowns, splashed, had my hair died blue, splashed and injured in a fall. I've endured so much from your son that most people would never put up with. You know why? I know your son has been hurt somehow. I know that inside he's a good kid. I do it for him, Arthur, but it was your faith in me that made it easier to bear. For once in my life, someone other than my father thought I was good at something and I felt like I could conquer anything."

"Gwen—"

"You really didn't think I'd last the first week? Did you think me incompetent or just naïve? I've heard people call me both. Go on," she said crossing her hands over her chest, "Tell me how you felt when the little poor girl waltzed into your house."

"Fine," Arthur said, sitting on the couch next to her. "I thought you were young and probably inexperienced. I felt horrible because I knew you'd be going through hell. I wanted to tell you to go home, to give up."

Gwen looked up at the lights to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"I was wrong, of course," Arthur continued. "First impressions are almost never right. You're much stronger than I gave you credit for, Guinevere. You've taught me so many things, taught me so many ways to improve myself and my relationship with my son. As an employer, I shouldn't say this, but you're invaluable to me and I'd do anything to keep you under my employ. I don't know why anyone would ever fire you."

Gwen wiped her eyes and sniffled.

"I shouldn't be so sensitive," she said after regaining a little composure. "It was just hurtful to hear that I'm horrible at my job from my boss."

"I'll do anything to make it up to you," he said, patting her back. "Just say the word."

She raised an eyebrow, "Anything?"

"Short of murder, cross-dressing, or public indecency," he added, noticing the odd glint in her eye. "Keep it tame, missy."

"I couldn't Moulin Rouge earlier because no one wanted to watch it with me," she said, sighing. "Though I know you can't appreciate the epic hotness which is a young, strapping, Ewan Mcgregor but—"

Arthur picked the remote off the coffee table and started searching down the long list of movies until he found the one he was looking for.

"Lights," he said.

The room became dark and the only flicker of light came from the plasma screen television.

"You're serious?" she asked, astounded.

"As the plague," he replied, stretching his arm over the back of the seat.

As the movie progressed, the distance between them grew smaller and smaller. Arthur would inch closer to ask Gwen a question about the plot, Gwen would lean over to tell him a little known fact about the movie. Towards the middle, she was lying with her back against his stomach, his legs on either side of her as if it were the most natural feeling in the world.

"Oh, Your Song," she whispered excitedly. "God, when I was younger, I would pretend that Ewan McGregor would sing the song for me. To this day, it's still my favorite song."

"I kind of understand why the girls were so into this guy," Arthur said, taking mental notes should he need them. "He's got charisma."

When the movie reached its conclusion and the credits began to roll, Gwen felt something wet against the back of her head.

"Are you… crying?" she asked, astounded.

"Of course not," he responded, his voice cracking a bit.

"He so was."

"Mhmm."

"Why, Daddy?"

"Lights!" Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin, Morgana, and Mordred sat on the floor, a bowl of popcorn half-finished in between them.

"How long have you guys been sitting there?" Gwen asked, gesturing at the three of them.

"Half-way through the film. You guys didn't even notice we were here," Merlin said, chuckling. "Oh, young love."

He gave Morgana a high five and they did a rather complicated handshake as Gwen Arthur sprang apart.

"This proves that neither of you have lives," Arthur concluded.

"I'm sorry. I take you seriously when you're blushing like a teenager," Morgana said.

"Daddy, I thought you said real men don't cry unless they lose an arm or a leg," Mordred piped up. "You have all of yours."

"He had something in his eye, Mordred," Gwen said. "He's still very much a man."

"Debatable," said Merlin.

"Finally decided to stop kissing long enough to come down here and insult me?" Arthur retorted.

"And how long did it take you to come up with _that_ one?" Merlin asked.

Mordred climbed through the fray of arguing adults to sit next to Gwen. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to her almost nervously.

It was a picture of a boy and a girl. The boy was clearly Mordred. She'd never seen the girl before but, she could tell that Mordred had taken great care in drawing her. They were laying in the grass, pointing at the clouds, which were each shaped differently.

"It's lovely," she said, meaning every word. "She'll love it."

"This is what I'd give a girl if I liked her," he corrected her. "Remember."

"Of course I do," she said, hiding a smile behind her hand. "Just remember, a true artist always signs his work with his name."

Mordred nodded, folded the picture and placed it back in his pocket.

"This doesn't mean I like you," he reminded her. "I'm only being nice to you because you're hurt. When you get better, I'll destroy you."

Gwen smiled again. It was a disturbing threat, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of his own words. It was minute progress, but it was progress none-the-less.

She felt the weight of the couch shift on either side of her as the other three took their positions on the long, leather couch.

"What's going on? " she asked as Morgana grabbed the remote from Arthur's hands.

"Morgana and I are trying to convince Arthur that watching GLEE will change his life," Merlin explained. "He doesn't believe it obviously."

"So we're having a marathon," Morgana said.

Arthur turned to Gwen and mouthed "help me".

Gwen shrugged. It was completely out of her hands. She swore it wasn't because she wanted to see Arthur squirm.

She felt like she could get used to this. She'd never been a part of a big family or had a large group of friends. She didn't feel like an outsider and could feel the camaraderie flowing through her.

It honestly didn't matter that she was dating a superstar or that Mordred still wanted to get rid of her despite her best efforts.

Tonight, she was going to have fun and enjoy herself. Tomorrow, she'd wonder why it was Arthur, not Lance who made her heart race.

* * *

Lots of stuff in this chapter. Mordred has a crush! I got the name Niniane from the Mists of Avalon series. I couldn't remember if Mordred in the legends ever had a lover other than Gwen (before the creation of Lancelot). Niniane was the only person I could find.

Lance has an agenda. Gwen realizes that she's in quite a dilemma. And _Morgana_. She brought Alvarr in the house! She's a bit flighty in this chapter for reasons I'll go into much later. I'll delve into her character more later.

Mordred's growing softer, but he's not growing _soft_. He's still scheming. Just to clarify, he only called Lancelot. He's not the one who hired him.

I hope you enjoyed reading! I made it extra long this time! Please let me know what you think!

Miki-hime

**::The title of this chapter comes from a song of the same name from the ABBA.::**


	7. Almost Doesn't Count

**Almost Doesn't Count**

Gwen awoke to a foot in her side, a hand on her shoulder, and a head on her lap.

The foot and hand belonged to Mordred and Morgana respectively. The head belonged to one Arthur Pendragon.

Blushing profusely, she gingerly removed the appendages and hopped off the couch, holding the armrest to keep her steady.

The room looked like a tornado had swept through it. Their GLEE marathon had transformed into something else entirely. Popcorn littered the carpet, curtosy of Morgana, who had gotten mad when Arthur said he found the show 'annoying'. The latter Pendragon had been firm in his dislike from the beginning, but by the midseason finale, he was singing along in his seat to 'Don't Rain on my Parade'. Despite his denial, Gwen could tell he was anxious to find out what happened next, as was she. They would have to wait until the next sleep over, which she'd seen Arthur mark discreetly into his calender.

While the three Pendragons lay on the couch, Merlin lay on the ground at Arthur's feet. He'd valiantly let Morgana take the last space on the couch to sleep on the floor in Arthur's Transformers sleeping bag.

Morgana told her not to ask. It was a 'Merthur' thing she said, using the duo's self proclaimed nickname.

Gwen couldn't remember when she'd had that much fun. Nothing seemed to put a damper on her spirits that night. But now, she felt the inevitable wave of confusion wash over her as she glanced at Arthur's sleeping face.

She had accepted her attraction for her boss. There was nothing she could do about her body's natural reaction and it was perfectly normal when you were living with a beautiful man. However, she was beginning to think her attraction had slipped into forbidden territory.

She wasn't in the deep end or anything, but her toe was definitely in the water. She felt at ease with him, which was strange since they came from completely different backgrounds. She could just be herself, which was nice. And she _really_ enjoyed his company.

Last night, when he'd watched the movie together, she'd ended up in his arms. She'd felt his heart beat against her back and the smell of his cologne surrounded her. Every once and a while, his arm would graze her side or the top of her thigh just below her sundress.

It had been perfectly innocent. He had offered to watch the movie as a favor to her and nothing more. But to her, it'd had been the best non-date she'd ever had and she wanted to do something like it again. Alone. With Arthur.

Lord help her, she had a _crush_ on her _boss._

Gwen immediately shook the idea out of her head and turned away from Arthur's face. She already had a boyfriend. A beautiful Chilean…superstar…boyfriend.

Right.

Gwen crept away from the couch so she wouldn't wake Arthur or the others. She wasn't supposed to be up and about and if her boss found out he'd be furious. Again, she felt like a secret agent as she slunk stealthily away.

"Secret…agent, Gwen," she whisper-sung as she hobbled up the stairs. "Secret…agent, Gwen! They've given me an number and they've take away my name—AH!"

She stopped in her tracks. There was a man at the stop of the stairs holding a cereal bar, smirking at her.

Gwen opened her mouth to scream, but the man covered it with his hands. She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything she'd learned in her 'Victim's no More!' class.

JAB!—She used her elbow, the hardest bone in her body to hit him square in the chest.

KICK!— She landed a deft kick to his side since she didn't have a clear shot to groin.

RUN!—She… she…

The man was rolling on the ground, clutching his stomach and _laughing _at her.

"Were you actually trying to beat me up?" he asked, sitting up on the floor to look at her. "Morgana was right, you _are_ really adorable."

Gwen deflated like a balloon.

"You mean I didn't even—"

"My ten-year-old sister does more damage than that," he said shaking his head. "Aren't you more concerned with the fact that you attempted to beat up your friend's boyfriend?"

Gwen tapped her fist against her forehead.

"Sorry," she said, giving him a hand to help him up. "I thought you were a rapist or murderer or something."

When she pulled him up, he stood less than an inch from her, which made her a little nervous. She could see the faint stubble on his cheeks. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, but the smile didn't seem to reach his toffee colored almond-shaped eyes.

"Lucky for you," he whispered, causing an odd chill to run down her spine.

"Urm, right," she said, stepping away from him. "Lucky."

He leaned against the wall, looking every bit the model.

"Why are you awake so early?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "It's barely six, you know."

She realized she was still wearing her red sundress from the night before and felt a little indecent in front of this stranger. Her hands fingered the hem in her nervousness.

"I've got a lot on my mind," she said, honestly. "My kind-of-boyfriend just dropped this huge bomb on me, you know? I haven't been able to get it out of my head."

She was surprised at how easily the truth spilled from her mouth. Sure, she wasn't one to lie, but she was usually able to keep her troubles to herself. Then again, she'd never been with a guy that made her feel this self-conscious. It was probably his model charisma making her do it.

"Oh yeah?" he said, looking interesting. "What kind of bomb?"

"Atomic," she blurted out.

"Dayum," he said, leaning in with interest. "What'd he do? Cheat? Steal? _Crossdress_?"

She opened her mouth to tell him, but thought better of it and closed it. What the hell was she doing? Lancelot had probably kept things secret for a reason. Why on earth would she tell some male model she didn't know? Though she had a bit of a weakness for beautiful men (who came along surprisingly often these days), she couldn't betray Lancelot's trust.

"It's… kind of personal," she said lamely. "He wouldn't like me to tell anyone, I'm sure."

"Come on," he said, grinning. "You can't just leave me hanging like that."

Gwen thought about it, but still shook her head.

"I can't tell you," she said after a few moments. "I don't even know you."

"Fine," he said, seeming to give up. "I'm Alvarr, if you didn't already know. And can you blame me for trying to get some entertainment around here? I'm bored as hell. Morgana keeps me up here in my room with nothing to do but count the number of dots on the ceiling."

"That sucks," she agreed. "…I guess I'm free for the next two hours. Mordred wakes up at 8:00 sharp. I can keep you company until then. What shall we do?"

Alvarr looked taken aback.

"Well," he said, recovering from his surprise. "I don't really know. I've been so busy with work, I've kind of forgotten how to relax, you know?"

"I know the feeling," Gwen said.

She was beginning to feel more comfortable with him now that they had something in common.

"I'm sure we can think of something," she said, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder reassuringly.

* * *

Nearly two hours later, the pair was laying on Gwen's bed laughing uproariously at her computer screen.

"Oh _God_," Gwen said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Funniest video I've ever seen."

"And there's a sequel!" Alvarr said, having just gotten over his laughter. "It's coming out in July, I think. If I'm still here, we should watch it together."

"Agreed," Gwen said, pulling the laptop closer to her.

She decided an hour and a half ago that she really liked Alvarr. Sure, she'd caught him looking down her dress on occasion, which made her feel a bit uncomfortable, but other than that, he seemed to be a pretty nice guy. He'd watched all of "A Very Potter Musical!" with her, after all.

Something on the sidebar caught her attention. 'OMFG! LANCELOT AND SHAKIRA!' the link read. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she clicked it.

She couldn't believe it.

The man in the video was undoubtedly Lance, but it was Lance, as she'd never seen before. He was standing next to Shakira, a fresh gleam of sweat on his forehead, dancing like there was no tomorrow. His voice, a smooth tenor, blended with Shakira's 'Hips Don't Lie' in beautiful harmony.

The shirt he was wearing should have been illegal and showed off muscles she didn't even know he had until now. This Lancelot, the one gliding across the stage with a startling familiarity, seemed so far away her. Her Lance was kind and down to Earth. Lancelot was _sexy_ and knew it. He looked like a man who would break a woman's heart under the heel of his leather boot.

They did some complicated dance move together and for the final move, he dipped her, his hands on her hips and his head on her heaving chest.

Gwen felt sick and closed her laptop with a resounding click. That was enough torture for one day.

"I'm not really a fan either," said Alvarr after a moment. "He's far too showy. All the girls love him, even Morgana. That's why I can never take her to one of his concerts. Slick little bastard."

"That slick little bastard," she said sighing, "is my boyfriend."

She had been so shocked at what she'd seen, that she didn't have time to filter herself. Her hands flew to her mouth in seconds, regretting her words immediately.

"That _is_ atomic," Alvarr said. "Your boyfriend is a pop _God._"

The ease that had grown between them seemed to vanish and Gwen wished she could travel back in time and swallow her words. She could tell she'd awoken something within him and the way he was looking at her made her uneasy.

There was a knock on her door.

"Hide!" Gwen said, pointing to her closet.

Alvarr hopped off her bed and leaped impressively into her closet. Gwen closed it quickly, hopped over to the door and opened it.

"Arthur," she said, giving her boss a nervous smile. "So good to see you!"

Arthur gave her a very strange look. "Right," he said, peering above her head to look into her room. "You weren't on the couch. I was wondering where you were."

"You've found me," she said, laughing. "Did you want anything?"

"I thought I heard another voice in here," he said suspiciously. "A very familiar, assholish, male voice."

"I was watching Youtube, " she explained. "That's probably what you heard."

He looked like he was about to say something, but his eyes immediately narrowed again.

"Gwen," he said, slowly, "what did I say about getting out of bed without help?"

She blew the hair out of her face. "I hate sitting in that bed all day, Arthur. It gets to be a little boring after a while, you know? There's really nothing to do and I feel helpless and horrible knowing that you're still paying me while I sit around and do nothing!"

It was a retort that had been building in her chest for ages, and she was so upset at herself that she bit her lip.

"Boss," she added, sheepishly, looking up at him for a reaction.

To her surprise, Arthur was smiling at her.

"So you _can_ get angry," Arthur said. "I've seen disappointment, but never anger. I was beginning to think you were superhuman or something."

"You're teasing me," she said, crossing her hands over her chest. "I'm serious about this. If I'm going to sit on the couch all day, I need something to do. Let me cook or something. I can iron your clothes for tomorrow or organize your closet or something."

"Come to think of it," Arthur said, rubbing his chin between his two fingers. "There is something I'd like you to do."

"You can't cheat and say 'have fun!' or something like that," she warned. "It has to be a real job."

"I wouldn't dare," he said, as though she'd somehow insulted his honor. "I'd like you to come to work with me."

Gwen cocked her head to the side.

"Why? What kind of work could I possibly do there?"

"Every year, someone on the Executive board brings an average, everyday woman to the workplace to do an inspection of sorts," Arthur explained. "You would observe the inner workings of the corporation. Write about what and who you like and how you think things could improve. It's printed right beside the letter from the editor in all our magazines in one issue out the year. It's supposed to be done by contest or lottery, but I've been too bogged down this year to get the word out."

Gwen gawked at him. "You're asking _me?_ This is a big deal. I couldn't possibly… there are thousands of people who would kill for this."

"I don't want a kiss up," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I want someone honest and dependable. I want you."

There it as again, the fluttering in her heart at something completely innocent. She wished she could wash her mind out with soap.

"I'm not right for this job," she said. "I have no experience."

"You're not right for it at all," Arthur said, smiling again, "you're not average or everyday. In fact, you're nothing short of amazing, but I'm sure I'll be forgiven for bringing you in once they see the way you light up the room."

"Stop that," she said, blushing.

"Will you do it?" he asked.

She looked up at his eyes. They were wide, like saucers and he was biting his lower lip. Oh god. It was the _face_. The one that made him look like Bambi after the hunter shot his mother. The dreaded puppy dog face of doom.

"Alright," she said, shielding her eyes from it's almighty power, "I'll do it! Just stop looking at me like that. You know I can't resist it."

"You know I'd only use it under dire circumstances," he shot back. "You were asking for it."

"I've got to take a shower first," Gwen said. "I feel kind of gross."

"You smell lovely," Arthur said, without thinking.

"Uh, thanks," she said, blushing again. "That' s nice to hear, but I really do need a shower."

"Right," Arthur said, looking embarrassed. "Can you be ready in thirty minutes?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Forty-five then," he said, laughing. "_Women._"

"_Men_," she shot back.

"Touche," he said, bowing. "I better get ready, or I'll be standing at your door all morning."

"I wouldn't mind," she said lightly. "You're fun to talk to."

"I wouldn't mind either," he said, smiling, "but I got this thing called a job I might be late for. I kind of have to go to that."

"Best get on that," she said, winking. "I'll get ready as fast as I can."

He waved to her as he went to the room and she closed her door and slid down until she hit the floor with a thud.

She was quite inept when I came to stuff like this, but she was almost certain she'd just been flirting with her boss.

"So you've managed to get Arthur Pendragon under your thumb, too?"

Gwen almost shrieked again for the second time that morning, but she soon remembered exactly what she'd been doing before Arthur barged in.

"He's just doing me a favor," Gwen said, picking at the carpet as her cheeks burned. "It doesn't mean anything."

"He's into you like a train," Alvarr said, wriggling his brows. "He's usually nothing but professional with his employees, but he really likes you. How'd you manage it?"

He was sitting on her bed on his stomach with his head in his palms like an eager schoolgirl friend.

"Stop that," she said, a bit annoyed. "I haven't done anything. We're friends, nothing more."

"Uh huh," he said, not looking at all convinced, "And I'm Beyonce."

"Can you teach me the Single Ladies Dance?" she asked. "I've seen it on TVs all over the square. I've been dying to learn."

"Hardy Har," he said. "I guess I was asking for that."

"As _fun_ as this was," she said, walking up behind him and shoving him towards her door, "I need to get dressed."

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth.

"I know what you're going to ask," Gwen said, glaring at him. "Don't _even_."

"You're really no fun," he said, pouting. "Fine. This isn't over."

She shut the door in his face and started picking out what to wear.

* * *

After saying goodbye to Mordred and Morgana (and Alvarr, though Arthur didn't know about that), they walked down the drive way to Arthur's car.

She walked to the passengers side, but before she could open the door, Arthur stepped in front of her and opened it for her.

She didn't get in.

"You're driving?" she asked, crossing her hands over her chest. "Where's Charles?"

"He's taking a day off," he told her, looking confused. "What's the problem? You don't want me to drive?"

"The last person to drive me that wasn't Charles nearly gave me a heart attack," she told him, glancing at his sleek black BMW as though it would bite her. "I'm a little skeptical about rich people and driving."

"Just trust me," he said, taking her hand and helping her into seat. "If you feel unsafe at anytime, I'll pull over and we'll take a taxi."

He shut the door and sat down in his own seat, buckling his seat belt.

"If you're being extra nice to me because I'm writing this report," she said, eying him playfully, "you can quit it. I'm giving my honest opinion."

"I wouldn't ask for anything less," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

Gwen gripped the sides of her seat as he backed out and began to drive down the road.

"Gwen," he said looking over at her.

She kept her eyes closed, still frozen in her fear.

"Guine_vere_," he said more forcefully.

Gwen turned around with one eye open and saw that he stretched his hand out for her to hold. She took it gratefully. They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at his profile. "I've driven with Charles, and I was fine. I just get scared sometimes, you know?"

"Your dad," Arthur said, slowly. "Gosh, Guinevere, I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have gotten Charles to drive us."

"But it's his day off—"

"He likes…never mind." He shook his head. "He'd take the day off if he heard it was for you. We'll leave it at that."

"You're not a bad driver," she said, relaxing in her seat. "Even if you _are_ driving with one hand."

He laughed and this and tightened his fingers around hers as though challenging her to let go. She didn't.

"You mind if I turn on the radio?" she asked.

"As long as you don't listen to opera music or classical," he said, cringing.

"What's wrong with classical?" she asked. "I happen to like Beethoven. Mozart's was like the modern day Jay-Z. What's not to like?"

"I'll ignore the fact that you just compared Mozart to Jay-Z, simply because I can't wrap my head around your logic," he said, smiling a little. "You try liking classical music when your father made you take lessons every weekday for two hours."

"Ouch," she said sympathetically. "When did you have time to play outside with your friends?"

"I didn't really have friends," he said after an awkward pause. "I had _Merlin._"

"Merlin's a great friend," Gwen said, giggling. "You're always selling him short, but I know he's the one you'd call whenever you need a friend."

"Merlin _is_ a great friend," Arthur agreed. "He's really all I had, growing up. Him and Morgana. Kids didn't really understand me, you know? I was a smart kid and… a little arrogant. It gave them all license to hate me."

"Must have been rough," she said squeezing his hand. "I can't imagine."

"I bet you had tons of friends," he said smiling wryly. "You probably had to make a schedule to choose which friend you'd hang out with."

"I did have a lot of friends," Gwen said, wistfully. "But when my dad died seven years ago and I didn't have a house to my name, none of them stuck by me. I lived on the streets for an entire year before I was able to get an apartment of my own. I got through college on a scholarship and have been working ever since to get a better apartment. I haven't seen any of my friends since the day my father died in that accident."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, frowning. "I didn't mean to… I thought since you're so cheery all the time…"

"I don't know what came over me," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry you had to hear that. I didn't really want you to find out about that."

"I like hearing about your life," he said, softly. "It helps me understand you more."

Gwen nodded and turned the radio to 94.7. She laid back in her chair feeling exhausted. She'd never told anyone about those seven years. There hadn't been anyone to tell really.

"Did you go to prom?" he asked. "Please tell me you went to prom at least."

She shook her head and looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"I didn't have time," she said, refusing to look at him. "I couldn't have any distractions. If I didn't get straight As, I wouldn't get my scholarship. It was really important to me."

"I'm sorry you missed it," he said, looking aghast. "It's a monumental high school experience."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It's one of my regrets, you know. Something I've always wished I could go back in time to do."

"When's your birthday?" he asked.

"December 7th," she said. "Why do you want to know?"

"Perfect," he said, under his breath. "Mine's on January 10th and Mordred's is in a few weeks on November 17th. "

"I hope you're not planning to do anything for me," she said, eying him warily. "You've done enough for me already."

"You can return the favor," he said. "I'm the birthday king. I always give the best presents and no one can stop me."

"You sound like Mordred," she said.

"Then I've taught him well," he said, putting the car in park. "We're here."

He took of his seatbelt and walked to the outside of her door to help her out. She was wearing a cast that made it easier for her to walk around. Merlin had whipped it out of the back of his trunk in the morning because he 'sensed she would need it'.

She was rather proud of her outfit, as well. She'd picked a short yellow halter dress with pearl earrings. She'd begged Merlin to let her wear one white heel so she could dress up. She hadn't gotten her pout to Arthur's level, but she could certainly give him a run for his money.

"How do I look?" she asked, smoothing her dress down. "Too much?"

"You don't look ordinary at all," Arthur frowned. "I'm going to have to work harder to dull you down."

She smiled and took the arm that he offered her and the two strolled in through the revolving doors of Pendragon Inc.

* * *

Mordred ran out of the school building as fast as he could, holding his picture gingerly in his hands. Per Gwen's instruction, he'd signed his name with the silver crayon. To Mordred, the silver crayon was sacred. Morgana had gotten him a glass-encased container for it to place on his dresser. He only used it in dire circumstances, like when adding the finishing touches to a rocket ship. Even the gold marker paled in comparison to its splendor.

He hoped Annie would appreciate it. It was the best drawing he'd ever made.

In his haste, he tripped over a rock sticking out of the grass and tumbled to the ground. Panicking, her reached towards his picture that had fluttered to the ground.

A shadow loomed over him and, before he could reach the picture, a pair of small white hands picked it up.

"Look at this!"

Gareth had arrived with five of his friends in tow. Mordred stood up and glared at him. Gareth was a _third_ grader. He was bigger and stronger than Mordred, but not nearly as intelligent.

A brown skinned boy on his right laughed and pointed at the picture.

"It's so ugly," he said, wincing. "It looks like it was drawn by a cat or something!"

"Give that back!" Mordred exclaimed reaching for his picture. Gareth handed the picture to the black boy, sneering.

"Look at how he writes his name, Pellinore," he said, pointing at Mordred's loopy signature. "He's trying to be like his father!"

A third boy with dirty blond hair didn't say a word, he just punched Mordred in the jaw, watching in satisfaction as the boy sailed to the ground.

"Good hit, Owain," said Pellinore, looking impressed.

"Stay away from Annie," Gareth said, looking down at him. "She's my girlfriend. She said so at lunch two days ago. I gave her my coloring book and she gave me her hair ribbion. It's offishial."

"You're a freak," said Pellinore. "It was fine when you stayed alone, but now you're trying to steal our friends away! Stay on your side of the playground!"

Pellinore looked at Mordred's picture one last time before tearing it right down the middle. Mordred watched in shock as his picture fluttered to the ground in two torn pieces.

"Stay away, freak," said Owain, finally, giving him one more shove before giving his friends a high five and walking away together.

Mordred pressed his hand to his cheek and winced as he felt the pain shoot up his face. He stared at the two pieces halves of his picture in dismay. He'd spent hours getting the picture just right so he could give it to Annie and, in less than an instant, they had ruined it. Now Annie would never see it.

Got up and started to cry as the pain of his face and the pain of his heart finally got to him. He walked away from the picture and went to sit on the swing, holding his bruised cheek in his hand.

Mordred had never been hit in his life. Not by his father, and definitely not by any of the nannies. He'd hit them, kicked them, bit them, punched them, and scratched them, but he'd never thought about the pain he was causing them. He'd never felt just how painful it was to get hit by someone for no reason.

As he sat there, pondering his actions and the excruciating pain in his face, Annie noticed the torn picture on the ground, smiled at it, and folded the pieces and placed them in her pocket.

He sat there alone on the swing for the rest of the day as the other children played around him.

* * *

"And this," Arthur said, gesturing to a pair of frosted double doors, "is where our clinic is. It was set up in case someone got sick on the job."

"You've got a clinic, a small grocery store, and a pool in the same building," she said, counting the amenities off her fingers. "With all that, why would you ever want to come home?"

"This place," he said, looking around him, "makes me feel cold. Closed in, you know? _I'd_ much rather stay home all day."

Pendragon Publishing Inc. was located in a building with 70 floors. They were now on the 67th floor, but Gwen was far from tired. Everything was so interesting! There were so many magazines. There was a magazine for love, for leisure, medicine, law, food, and even one dedicated to proper care of vegetables.

"This is the final magazine floor," Arthur explained as he led her around the room. "This is the conference area where they negotiate deals for our cover shoot models. These meetings are conducted months in advance."

The glass doors to the conference room were tinted so she regrettably couldn't see who was inside.

"We've had Madonna, Florence + the Machine, Shakira, and the entire cast of LOST this year," he said.

"Why couldn't you have brought me then," Gwen squeaked. "I would have killed to meet Josh Holloway."

"They came back in January," Arthur said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I didn't know you then, remember? Those were dark times."

She rolled her eyes. "If you keep giving me complements, I might just have to believe you."

"I think they're almost finished in there," Arthur said, gesturing to the shadows in the conference room that were moving around. "Hold your breath, I think it might be Lady Gaga."

The door opened and a very tall, dark, handsome man walked through the doors with all the pomp in the world. Gwen had watched enough Top Model to know the perfect strut and this man certainly had it down.

It was Lance…olt.

He stopped and turned in a very diva-ish way that caught Gwen offguard. She had not been expecting this. Not _today_.

"I _do_ dance a lot," he said, turning around, "but I think that's a horrible tagline. I expect more from a magazine of this caliber. I may have to rethink this shoot."

His entourage followed him. There were six of them, three men, three women. All waxed and manicured and looking absolutely fabulous.

Lancelot stopped in his tracks when he saw her and sauntered over. And… good _God..._ he was wearing _leather pants_.

"Pendragon," Lancelot said dismissively. "You know, you need to hire better features editors for your magazine and perhaps purchase a rhyming dictionary. They lack creativity and vision."

"I guess I'll think about it," said Arthur. Gwen could tell he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes at Lancelot.

"Who's this lovely woman?"

Gwen resisted the urge to gawk at him. Was he seriously going to act like he didn't know her?

"This is Guinevere," Arthur said, through gritted teeth. "She's here to submit a review of our office building."

The hand he had placed on her shoulder was now digging into her skin a little. She winced slightly.

"Nice to meet you, _Lancelot_," she said, barely containing her anger. "I've heard so much about you."

He lifted her hand to press his lips to it. "You have lovely hands. Ever thought about being a hand model?"

"Not that high on my list of careers, no," she said. "I'll get back to you on that one."

He lifted her hand over her head and twirled her around then dipped her low to the ground a la Shakira.

"Let's go out in a few weeks," he whispered in her ear.

She felt the anger wash away as she heard the normal timbre of his soothing voice instead of the indulgent whining voice of his pop persona.

"We need to talk first," she whispered. "This is just too weird."

He lifted her up. "Go out with me," he said, this time in his other voice. "I can take you dancing or buy you anything you like. I can show you my apartment."

"Guinevere's not that kind of girl, Lancelot," Arthur said, pulling her closer. "I don't think she'd be caught dead in your world."

Gwen and Lancelot locked eyes before Gwen dropped them in an instant. If the glance had lasted any longer, they would have given away their secret. They would continue pretending for now.

"Her loss," he said, winking at Gwen. "Maybe I'll see you around."

He walked past her, trailing his fingers over her back and eliciting another shiver down her back.

"I hate that guy," Arthur whispered when Lancelot was out of earshot. "I only work with him because circulation increases twenty percent when he's on the cover."

"I don't blame you," she said, pulling at the collar of her dress. "He seems like a handful."

She felt Arthur's hand on her shoulder and stopped walking as he peered into her face.

"Are you… blushing?" he asked astounded. "Please tell me you're not one of those girls who posts his picture on their walls and has a life-size doll of him in their beds."

"No!" she said, blushing even harder. "He just caught me off guard. You can't really blame me for being a little flustered."

She really hated lying to him, but she had to make sure what she had with Lance was actually serious before she told him.

He squeezed her shoulder and looked at her imploringly.

"Just forget about him, okay?" he told her. "Something about that guy doesn't sit right with me. I wouldn't want you to get hurt or anything. I'd punch his face in if he hurt you, but I'd rather skip the part where you get your heart broken."

God he was making her feel absolutely horrible for lying to him.

"Alright," she said. "I wasn't even thinking about going out with him, Arthur. I thought he was just joking."

"Why would you think that?" he asked as they walked into the elevator. "You look really nice. You had to have noticed the amount of attention you're getting."

She looked up at him in genuine surprise.

"Attention?" she asked. "You forget that I'm walking around with the head of the corporation. Of course they'll be paying attention."

"They're used to me walking around. Most of the time they turn away so I won't chastise them about not doing their work," he said, giving her the Manhattan 'once over'. "Trust me, they're looking at you."

She pulled down the hem of her dress and blushed prettily at him.

"Liar," she said, looking away. "I appreciate the compliment, though."

"I haven't let you out of my sight for a reason," Arthur told her. "There's a strict dress code here and your dress, though nice, is a couple inches shorter than what the women in our office wear."

"Oh my," she said, trying to pull her dress down again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I know that men will look at you no matter what you wear," he said, sheepishly, "so I figured I might as well let you wear whatever made you feel comfortable."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder, the compliment still lost on her.

"Quit messing with me," she said.

He lightly held the crook of her elbow between his fingers pulling her a little closer.

"I mean it," he said, looking down at her from his superior height. "You may not know it yet, Guinevere, but you're beautiful. I suppose the ignorance is part of your charm."

He pulled a loose curl behind her ear and she leaned into his touch, for once not denying his kind words.

The doors to the elevator slid open and Arthur dropped his hand.

"Erm," he said awkwardly. "This is our stop."

She hobbled after him, berating herself for getting caught up in the moment.

"This is where _I_ spend most of my day," he said, gesturing to a circular office to the left.

As they approached his office, Gwen caught sight of Arthur's secretary, who gave her a very evil glare.

"Vivian, right?" Gwen asked, holding out a hand. "I met you at the party. I really liked your dress. Where'd you get it?"

"It's beyond anything you could ever afford," she said giving Gwen a once over. "I don't trust your tastes what with your trashy outfit. You look like a lemon in heat."

Gwen felt her blood boiling, but knew better than to stop to such a juvenile level.

"You're right," she said. "I probably couldn't afford it. I probably should have never asked because you're incapable of an iota of kindness. I still liked the dress even though the person wearing it could use some manners."

"What have I told you about being rude to my guests, Vivian," Arthur finally said. "Keep it up and I'll fire you regardless of what your father says."

"Yes my lov—I mean, Mr. Pendragon, sir," she said, suddenly leaning forward with interest.

Arthur shook his head in embarrassment and led Gwen into his office, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm so sorry about her," he said, collapsing into his desk chair. "She doesn't know when to keep her mouth closed or to use her brain. I'm beginning to doubt she has one anymore."

"It's alright," Gwen said, hopping onto the desk next to him. "I've dealt with worse."

"I'm sorry for you, then," he said sympathetically. "I wish we could have met sooner. I could have—"

"If we'd met sooner," she said, staring at the wall over her head, "I'd be your charity case rather than your friend. I like it better this way. My father always said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I believe him now. I would be a different person if I hadn't worked to get where I am."

When Arthur realized he couldn't argue with that, he began shuffling through his papers. As he did so, his elbow grazed her side and she jumped up a little, biting her lip.

He looked at her strangely before continuing to shuffle through his papers to find the form Gwen needed to fill out before writing her review. His elbow touched her side again and, again, she jumped, this time eliciting a little giggle.

He looked at her. She looked at him, inching away from him on the desk.

"You're very ticklish, aren't you?" he asked her, letting the papers fall from his grasp.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, looking at her side.

"Only on two parts of my body," she said inching away from him even further.

He grabbed her wrist and she gasped.

"Arthur," she said, slowly. "Don't. You. Dare. I'm warning you."

Before she could stop him, he pounced. She tried to jump of the desk, but his hold on her wrist was too tight. His hands tickled her sides and the giggles erupted from her before she could stop them. She fell back against the hard cherry wood surface of his desk as her body wracked with laughter.

"Oh god!" she managed to say through her laughter. "You…stop! Right this…minute!"

He towered over her, relentlessly attacking her sides with his fingers. She felt her back arch up as she giggled, begging him to stop.

In a few moments, he'd stopped ticking her and his hands seemed to just rest at her sides, right below the curve of her breasts.

Laughter faded away, replaced by an odd silence. She looked at him as she lay on the bed, her chest heaving and her legs dangling over his desk. This was dangerous territory.

His hands traced down the curve of her body under her dress and landed right at the hip. He was leaning over her, so closely that she could see the strands of his short blond hair. He didn't move any closer he only moved a hand to touch her hair, which had spread flat against the desk. They just stared at each other, neither willing to cross the line.

Gwen was the first to come to her senses. She sat up and watched as Arthur's hands fell to his sides.

She hopped down from the desk and hopped around to the other side to plop herself down in the chair across from her _boss_.

She couldn't claim that what had just transpired between them had been innocent and she wasn't sure what to do about that just yet. She was certain of one thing: it would take her months to forget the feeling of his warm hands radiating through her dress.

"So about that paper," she asked awkwardly. "I would like to start writing that review as soon as possible."

He reached for her hand across the desk.

"Guinevere, I—"

There was a knock on the door and Arthur's arm dropped right back down to his side.

"Come in," he said, clearing his throat and still looking right at her.

Uther Pendragon walked in, closing the door behind him. Arthur immediately sat up in his chair as he approached.

He was a man of about sixty with salt and pepper hair. He carried himself with an air of grace and Gwen had in inexplicable urge to curtsy. This urge was overpowered by a sense of familiarity. This man was a stranger to her, but she felt like she'd seen him somewhere before.

"Father," he said, nodding to him. "What's the problem?"

Uther glanced at Gwen and she felt his eyes widen a little before he turned back to his son.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your," he looked at her haphazard state with a snear before continuing, "_friend_?"

"_Dad_," Arthur said stiffly, "this is Guinevere. She's the nanny I told you about. The girl whose lasted the longest so far."

"She doesn't look like much," he said, speaking as if she couldn't hear him. "Mordred should have broken her down by now."

"Not, yet," Arthur said.

"Pity," Uther said, still scrutinizing her appearance. "You wouldn't want Mordred to pick up any of the bad habits akin to people of her class. It would be a pain to reeducate the boy."

Gwen bit her lip as the tears stung her eyes. She looked to Arthur. He just nodded. He didn't _say_ anything in response. Was he too ashamed to defend her in front of his own father?

"I never bother with help," Uther said. "That was always your mother's—"

Gwen slammed her hands on Arthur's desk causing both men to jump a little.

"I may not be rich,_ sir_," Gwen said, standing up to face Arthur's father, "but at least I can afford to have some manners!"

"I would hold your tongue—"

"No," Gwen said, shaking her head in anger. "How dare you sit here and talk about wealth when _your _wealth comes from people like me. Without the lower class where would you be? You should be grateful—"

"How many seconds, Arthur?"

"Fifty-five," he said, whistling. "That's a new record."

"Wha?" said Gwen, still feeling thoroughly miffed.

"Usually my nannies don't blow up at my father," said Arthur, running his hand through his hair. "It's his test to see how good you are for Mordred. Only one other person spoke up after about five minutes of abuse. The rest didn't say a word."

"I trust you'll take care of my grandson," Uther said, eying her with a little respect. "You've got some nerve, I can tell."

"Thanks, Mr. Pendragon, sir," she said, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry I said those things to you."

"I take no offense," he said smiling a little, "You meant me no ill."

Arthur mouthed 'sorry' before turning back to his father expectantly.

"I've handed over this company to you son," Uther said, eying him wryly, "under the condition that I still get mailed a copy of all the expense reports! I still have other companies to run and I'm still keeping track of this one."

Gwen leaned back in her chair as father and son argued about things she had no knowledge of, all inklings of her encounter pushed to the back of her mind.

* * *

Lily Allen's 'Smile' played in the car as Arthur drove them back home. This time, Gwen kept her hands in her lap as she played with the hem of her dress. Neither of them had spoken a word about their odd encounter in his office and Gwen definitely wasn't going to be the first to break the comfortable silence. It would disappear into time like fanny packs and polka dotted bow ties.

"Your father is… interesting," Gwen said. "I thought he really meant what he said."

"He used to be such a hard man," Arthur said, sighing. "I was terrified of him, always searching for his approval. He's really changed since—"

He didn't continue, as though the sentence was causing him physical pain.

"He seems to like you, anyway," Arthur said. "Which is a surprise, since he usually hates my nannies. Ever since #157 said he was an old man…"

"What number am I?" Gwen asked, narrowing her eyes. "Don't even think about lying to me."

"438," he said wincing. "To be fair, Mordred goes through nannies like a plate of cookies."

"Fair enough," Gwen said. "Do you have a jersey for me or something? Or a sweatshirt?"

"You think you're clever," Arthur told her. "Would you like one?"

"I would, actually," she said, looking up at him sheepishly.

"If you open the glove compartment," Arthur said, "I'm sure you'll find something you have more use for."

Eying him suspiciously, she opened the compartment to find something wrapped in silver paper sitting in the back.

"It's not my birthday," she protested. "Why're you giving me—"

"Open it," he told her, chuckling. "Don't worry, I'm not throwing money at you. This is something I owe you after all."

She removed the package from the compartment and carefully removed the paper surrounding it. A gasp slipped from her mouth as the paper fell to the floor.

He'd gotten her an_ i_Phone.

"Before you tell me you can't keep it or something silly like that," Arthur said, "look at the case."

She turned the phone over and nearly dropped it as she started to laugh. The case was lime green (how'd he known her favorite color?), with the numbers 438 engraved in white in the center. The name 'Guinevere' was engraved over the letters in the same block print.

"How did you—?"

"You wear quite a bit of green," Arthur said. "I needed to get you a new phone after the other one broke. I just put two and two together. It's no jersey, but—"

"I love it," she said, admiring the consideration that went into the gift.

She leaned over and pressed a light kiss on her cheek, forgetting for a moment that she was sitting with her boss rather than just a dear friend.

The car swerved a little to the side before Arthur gained control again.

"Guinevere," he said tentatively as he kept his eyes on the road, "about what happened in the office today…"

She looked at him expectantly, glad she didn't have to say something about it.

"…I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"Understood," she said.

She didn't know why she suddenly felt disappointed. What they had almost done would have been wrong for many reasons. Lancelot, Mordred, and their employee employer relationship to name a few.

But if it was wrong, why didn't she feel guiltier about it?

"You're my son's nanny," Arthur continued, sighing, "My son would never understand. Our top priority should be to him. He'll really resent you if something like that…happens again."

"You don't have to explain," Gwen said. "After all, we didn't _do_ anything, Arthur. It was just a moment between friends. It's nothing we should worry about really. I mean, you were just trying to…cheer me up. It didn't mean anything."

Arthur gripped the steering wheel harder as he drove. She must of thought it was completely innocent, but in reality he'd wanted to lean over and kiss her on the desk for hours. He wished he could tell her, make her understand that in that moment, he'd _not_ been thinking about her like a _friend_ and it had meant something.

"Right," was all he said as he pulled into the driveway. "Just wanted to clear the air before we got home."

She removed her seatbelt. "Good idea," she said, curtly. "Glad we got the elephant out of the way."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah."

He walked around to open the door for her and this time, when he helped her out of the car, the tow of them were hyper aware of the way their skin touched.

_I have a boyfriend,_ Gwen chanted inwardly_, a super hot superstar boyfriend who looks great in leather pants. What more could a girl ask for?_

"After you," said Arthur, looking a little shaken.

They walked in silence to the front of the house and Arthur rang the doorbell several times.

It was Morgana who rushed to the door.

"Thank God you're home," Morgana said, looking frantic. "Mordred's locked himself up in your room, Gwen. I was hoping you had the key. He's been up there since he came back from school."

Arthur was about to run up the stairs to her room, but Gwen held up a hand to stop him.

"Let me handle this one," she said.

"I want to at least be at the door," Arthur said, looking extremely worried. "In case you can't console him."

Gwen limped up the stairs as quickly as she could and Arthur followed quickly beside her. When they reached the door, Gwen gave Arthur a reassuring look before unlocking her door and closing it behind her.

Mordred sat on her bed with his hands on his knees, staring at the ceiling. He looked up when she came in, and she noticed the bruise on the side of his cheek.

"What happened to you?" Gwen asked, rushing over as fast as her injured leg could take her. "Who did this?"

"I'm a monster, Gwen," he told her, looking up at her with his wide blue eyes.

"No," she said, sitting down next to him on her bed, "You're not the monster. The monster is the one who did this to you."

This did nothing to console him. It made him cry even harder.

"All I've wanted is for the nannies to go away so I can be with daddy," Mordred said through tears. "I wanted to hurt them so they'd never come back. But if I'd knowned how bad it hurt to get hit, I would have never done it!"

She couldn't believe it. Someone had given the boy a taste of his own medicine and, after all this time, the boy was actually feeling sorry for the things he'd done.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he said, launching himself at her. "I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry I burneded you and threw the thermomometer at your head! I'm sorry I hurted you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

"Shh," she said, hugging him fiercely. "It's okay. You didn't know better. I'm glad whoever hurt you didn't do more damage."

"If you promise not to take daddy away from me," said Mordred, still crying, "I promise I won't hurt you so much anymore."

So much?

Eh, it was a start.

"I promise I won't take your daddy away," she said. "Now will you tell me what happened to your face?"

She gestured for Arthur to come in. As soon as he sat down, Mordred sat in his father's lap and told them the story of what happened on the playground.

"When I get my hands on those horrid kids," Gwen vowed, "they'll wish they never crossed you. Kids can be so—"

She was about to say 'cruel' before she remembered who she was speaking to.

"You've got to show him who's boss," she said. "Go grab a crayon and some paper. We're going to get back at them for what they've done."

Mordred ran out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He'd never been one to miss out on making plans. He'd get to use the silver crayon twice in two days. It was unheard of.

"Why don't we just call the school?" Arthur asked, baffled. He'd never seen this side of her before.

"Oh, we will," she said, with a glint in her eye. "But Mordred's got to show those kids who's boss around the playground. There will be no violence involved, of course."

"Aren't you taking this too far?"

"They mess with Mordred," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "They mess with me."

"There's no stopping you I suppose," he said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Oh, I do," she said, nodding. "Would you mind getting the ice and some ice cream from the freezer?"

"Ice Cream?"

"It's the perfect food when hatching a plan," she said, rather unconvincingly.

"You're full of it," he said smirking. "You just want an excuse to eat ice cream."

"Your point?"

Gwen felt relieved that the awkwardness had dissipated. She didn't want to give up her friendship with Arthur forever for a moments indulgence in what she was now certain was a mutual attraction.

Arthur paused as he walked away, narrowing his eyes slightly at the guest room near the stairs. When he opened the door, the room was dark and, as far as he could tell, there was no one there.

He could have sworn he had heard a familiar voice say 'whipped' under his breath.

* * *

Longest chapter in this story's history! Poor Mordred! Poor Gwen! Poor Arthur! I was mean to practically everyone except the Morgana, Alvarr, and the characters you didn't see.

Mordred's seen some kind of light but, honestly, how long do you think that's going to last. Gwen's promise was rather half-hearted after all. After their almost-kiss, how will she be able to keep away?

Lance, who? :) He'll show up again next chapter and there will be some jealousy, which I love.

I was able to finish this chapter because I had a bit of free time, but I won't be updating as quickly since I have a new job now. I'll try to get them up as quickly as possible.

As always let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

Miki-hime

**::The title of this Chapter comes from the Brandy song of the same name. (One of my favorite. Bittersweet, like this chapter)::**


	8. Didn't We Almost Have it All?

**Didn't We Almost Have it All?**

Mordred gulped as he looked at himself in the mirror. It was finally time; the day he'd show those third grade idiots who was boss. He would do it or die trying.

Gwen was sitting on his bed, eying him curiously.

"Gwen," he said slowly, walking over to her. "I'm sorry I splashed you this morning."

"Old habits die hard," she said, smiling weakly. "Just try to keep the splashing to a minimum from now on. "

He nodded, and sat next to her, refusing to look at her face.

"Can you… pick out my outfit?"

Gwen looked at him with wide eyes. Mordred's outfits were nearly as sacred as his crayons. She'd given up even trying to pick out clothes for him in fear of his backlash.

He was blushing a little as he looked at the floor and, for once, Gwen understood what he was trying to convey to her. He was embarrassed. Asking her to do this meant he was surrendering a little, and it was hard for him not to let her be in control.

"Sure, sweetie," she said, surprised at how the term of endearment rolled off her tongue.

If possible, he blushed even harder making sure to avoid her eyes.

Red was the first color that popped into her head. It was a very Pendragon color. When Arthur wore it, he looked even more confident than usual (a feat, in itself) and she hoped the color would have the same effect on the nervous little boy in front of her.

She sifted through his clothes until she found a red shirt and some dark blue jeans. The shirt was short-sleeved with an intricate dragon embroidered on the front in gold and green. The name 'Pendragon' was written in Gothic letters underneath.

"How about this one," she said, displaying the shirt to Mordred. "It's really nice."

Mordred held the fabric in his fingers and looked at Gwen, his eyes as big as saucers.

"Daddy said my mother bought this for me," he said, quietly. "I've never worn it because I didn't want it to get dirty."

Now this was strange. This shirt was brand new. It didn't look like a shirt that had been in his closet for seven years and counting. Which meant…

"Mordred," Gwen asked, cautiously, "have you ever met your mother?"

"No," he said as he pulled off his nightgown. "Daddy says she had to go far away but, sometimes, she sends me things because she still loves me."

"Of course she does," Gwen said, trying to keep herself from crying.

Either Arthur was lying to his son or Mordred's mother was quite a piece of work. She was leaning towards the latter. She couldn't seen Arthur putting his son in unnecessary pain.

"Maybe if I wear it, mommy will wish me good luck," he said, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Daddy always says that mommy has the best luck ever."

"I'm sure she will be watching from wherever she is," Gwen said, reassuringly. "Mothers have super powers, you know."

"That's stupid," Mordred said, rolling his little eyes. "Everyone knows only daddies have superpowers."

Gwen smiled at him.

"Did your father tell you that?"

"Yes," Mordred said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "And Daddy is always right."

"Right," she said, leaning down to help button his shirt.

"If I don't come back today," he said, looking at his feet. "I want you, Daddy, and Auntie Morgana to share my crayons. Make sure Daddy gets the silver one. You get last pick."

To outside ears, it may have sounded like a back-handed compliment but to Gwen it was incredibly sweet. She'd never thought she'd hear Mordred say those words to her of all people.

"You'll be fine," she said, touching his cheek. "Just do what we planned, okay? If that doesn't work, I'll go down there myself and deal with those little scrawny brats."

Mordred looked impressed. "You're not as bad as I thought you were."

_And you're not the sociopath I pegged you as_, Gwen wanted to say. However, she thought better of it.

"You're not so bad yourself, kiddo," she said, ruffling his hair despite his protests. "Knock it out of the park, alright? Show him whose boss."

She raised her hand so he could give her a high five, but he just stared at it.

"Alrighty then," she said, lowering her hand in embarrassment, "I guess I overestimated our progress."

He shouldered his backpack and walked past her, not saying a word.

"I really do believe in you Mordred," Gwen called after him. "You can do this. I know you can."

He stopped, hesitating a moment before turning around to face her.

"Thank you, Gwen," he said quietly before making his way down the stairs

It was times like these that she actually felt gratification in being his nanny. She finally felt like she'd done something right for a change.

She practically skipped to her room, she was so happy. Humming a tune, she began removing her nightgown to change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

_Today I'll wear the green shirt_, she thought, walking over to the closet. _Or maybe the purple one._

Gwen opened the closet retrieve said shirts when she felt a hand grasp her lower arm.

She screamed.

"Shh!" said the familiar voice. "It's only me!"

Alvarr was standing in her closet, holding his hands up in surrender. His eyes scanned her body and lingered on her chest.

"Who would have known that under all those clothes you had such a hot little body," he said raising an eyebrow.

She crossed her hands over her chest in embarrassment.

"Just shut up and pass me a shirt," she muttered.

He threw her a green shirt, unaware that he had made the decision of dressing herself ten times easier.

The door to her room suddenly swung open and Gwen quickly closed the closet, and stood in front of it meet her visitor.

"Guinevere, are you—"

His voice seemed to get caught in his throat once he realized that she was clad only in her underthings. She watched as his eyes scanned her, much like Alvarr's had moments before, but slower, as though he was storing mental pictures in his mind.

Arthur turned around quickly once he realized what he was doing.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling at his collar. "I heard screaming and I thought someone was trying to hurt you. I didn't mean… that is to say I'm not a—"

"A pervy boss?" she asked, opening the closet to grab a pair of pants. "A shamless peeping Tom. A—"

"Must you always find ways to ridicule me," he asked, sighing. "I guess this is the price I pay for trying to help you. See if I come to your rescue again."

Alvarr whispered something that sounded suspiciously like 'liar' under his breath, causing Arthur to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"Call me crazy," he said, slowly, "but I think we have a madwoman in the attic."

"You can turn around now," she said, giggling, "The fact that you've just made a reference to Jane Eyre means that you, self-proclaimed macho-manly-man, actually read the book."

"They made me read it in school," he protested. "I didn't like it or anything. It was a real pain to read 500 pages of glorified chick-lit."

"Ay," she said, looking a little wounded. "Don't you dare insult the brilliance that is Jane Eyre! I relate to her a quite a bit, you know."

Arthur looked her up and down skeptically.

"I don't see the resemblance," he concluded.

"Well," Gwen said, hands on hips, "I'm of average attractiveness, I'm a nanny, which is like a governess of the 21st century, I have a boss who I—"

She trailed off, mentally kicking herself for letting something slip.

"A boss who you what?" he asked, sounding almost… _hopeful_.

"Who I respect and who respects me despite my background," she finished lamely. "You see? Jane and I_ are _pretty similar."

"I don't know how to get it into your head, Guinevere," he said, sounding a bit aggravated.

He walked over to her quickly and Gwen found herself backing into the wall. When she couldn't move back any further, she trained her eyes to the floor, refusing to look him in the eye.

"You," he said, lifting her chin and forcing her to look at him, "are so beautiful."

"Don't lie to me Arthur," she said, glaring at him a little. "You want to know the real reason I never went to prom?"

"I thought you said you—"

Gwen sighed. "I could have gone if I really wanted to, but I knew I'd be alone if I did. My friends abandoned me, no guy would come near me with a 10-foot-pole. I didn't get my first kiss until college and there was only one time when I—"

She promptly shut her mouth. That was something she didn't need to talk about in front of her boss, especially after last week.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to listen to this," she said. "I sound like a high school girl. None of this stuff is important, any way. Beauty only gets you so far, after all."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her so tightly that she had to take a minute to catch her breath. She felt her defenses drop as she just melted into his warm embrace and the protection it offered her.

"Let me tell you a secret," he said, placing his head upon her mass of curls. "Men are stupid."

"That's not really a secret—"

"I was one of those guys in high school," he said, "the ones who were so enthralled by the obvious beauty that surrounded them. I didn't look for substance or companionship, I was looking for—"

"Girls you could sleep with?" she offered helpfully.

"Yeah, those," he said, a little embarrassed. "If you had gone to my high school, I would have thought you were out of my league and wouldn't have even bothered. You're beautiful _and_ smart _and_ funny and much too hard to go after."

She pulled away a little and looked him in the eyes.

"You… really mean that, don't you?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face for signs of deception. "You aren't just trying to make me feel better."

He shook his head and she smiled, making his heart feel like it was doing an intense round of jumping jacks.

"No," he said, feeling his palms begin to sweat a little.

She stood on her toes and Arthur could feel her every bit of her graze his torso as she did so. Her hands slowly entwined themselves in his short hair, lightly massaging his scalp and making his mouth go a little dry. He closed his eyes, not thinking about how _wrong _it was to allow her to do this when he'd hardly gotten their last encounter out of his mind.

She was so close he could smell her. He couldn't put a label on her scent. It was like everything sweet and warm and delicious all rolled into one. Eau de Guinevere.

He felt her lips, half on his cheek and half on the side of his mouth. A kiss, but not quite, he thought, but damn if it didn't surpass all the full kisses he had in his lifetime.

It was over before he could fully enjoy the contact and she left him feeling a strange hunger in the depths of his chest. It was the kind of kiss one would give to a mother or father: sweet, kind, and innocent, just like her. The thoughts it induced in his head, however, were anything but.

"Thank you," she said, so softly he could barely hear her. "You have a kind heart, Arthur Pendragon. I pray you'll never change, not for anyone."

_Too late for that_, he thought. _You've already changed me._

He looked at her, a smile dancing across his face before he could stop it. She looked at him, still feeling bashful that she'd dared to kiss his cheek.

The door swung open and the two sprang apart.

Morgana stood in the doorway looking frantic at first, then _amused._

"You know, _usually_ when I want to sleep with someone I lock my door," she said, smirking at Gwen. "You're much more wild than I thought, Gwen."

"It wasn't like that—"

"We weren't trying to—"

"Relax you two," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm only half-joking. Though, I swear, if you two don't jump each other before I go on my shoot in Milan, I'll lock you in a cage until you do. It's not good to have all that sexual frustration bottled up—"

"What are you doing here, Morgana?" Arthur asked, glaring at her to _shut the hell up._

"I'm looking for something I've lost," she said, looking meaningfully at Gwen. "I can't seem to find it and I wonder if Gwen borrowed it."

Gwen smiled at her from her position behind Arthur. Morgana could be very subtle when she wanted to be.

"I did," Gwen told her. "I'll make sure it gets back to you in a few minutes."

"Excellent," she said, winking.

"What are you two talking about?" Arthur asked, looking at Morgana curiously.

"Lipstick," the girls said in unison.

"No wonder I couldn't understand," Arthur said, sighing. "It's nothing but feminine war paint women wear when they want to attract men or ward off women from their men."

"That's so misogynistic I'm not even going to dignify it with a response," said Morgana, looking disgusted. "I'm sorry your brain seems to be reset to the middle ages."

"I'm not in the mood to have a verbal battle with you, Morgana," he said, looking at his watch. "I'm nearly late for work and I know I'd win anyway so why bother."

He ruffled his sister's hair and sent Gwen a little nod, avoiding her eyes completely before he rushed out of the room.

"He knows I'd win," said Morgana a few moments after Arthur'd left the room. "I always do after all."

Gwen smiled at her and Morgana smirked back, looking devious.

"He just gave you the nod of shame, by the way," Morgana said. "You know what that means, right?"

Gwen shook her head feeling the giddiness she'd felt a few moments earlier seep out of her. Nod of shame? Did that mean he was ashamed to be seen with her? Did he want to wash off his cheek after their encounter?

"It means he's thinking of you in a way he knows he shouldn't," she told her. "Which means you must have done something to make him think like that."

"Nonsense," Gwen said, waving her off. "I just kissed him on the cheek because he made me feel better."

"Must have been some kiss," Morgana said, wiggling her brows suggestively. "If you guys decide to knock boots though, make sure I'm not around when you do it."

"_Morgana!_" Gwen said, looking absolutely appealed. "He's my boss. We could never… _would_ never do something like that."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're such a saint. I don't even know why I try."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Gwen muttered.

"It's not," Morgana said, sighing. "But sometimes you have to let your hair down. Do something wild and crazy like jumping your boss, or the mailman, or the pizza delivery guy, or the—"

"I think I get the point," said Gwen, raising an eyebrow. "I'll take that under consideration."

"Good," Morgana said. "Now, where's Alvarr?"

"He's in the closet," Gwen said simply.

"He _is_ not," Morgana said, looking appalled. "He's kissed tons of models and we've had amazing sex on countless occasions—"

"No," said Gwen, now trying desperately to erase the mental image. "He's literally in the closet."

"Oh," Morgana said as she followed Gwen's finger to the double doors. "Of course that's what you meant."

Alvarr sprang from the closet door as if on cue.

"I came in here to hide from Arthur," Alvarr said. "I knew it was the one place he'd never look because he wouldn't want to invade Gwen's privacy. Or be tempted to steal a pair of her underwear."

"Must you always be so vulgar?" Gwen asked, glaring at her. "Why couldn't you have left it at the privacy thing."

"Girl, you haven't seen vulgar," he said, smirking. "Just ask Morgana."

"I'd rather not," she said, shuddering a little. She was going to have to buy a lot of brain bleach to erase some of the images the morning had created in her mind.

"Shall we pick up where we left off?" Morgana asked Alvarr, undressing him with her eyes.

"Of course," he said, returning her gaze.

"See you later Gwen," Morgana said, sauntering out of the room, with Alvarr close behind. "Don't forget my advice!"

The door slammed behind her and Gwen turned around and picked up her new iPhone, scrolling through her contacts until found who she was looking for.

Taking a breath, she pressed the CALL button with her fingers, waiting anxiously for a response.

"Hey beautiful," the voice said smoothly. "I was beginning to wonder if you were done with me. I know I dropped the bomb on you and everything, but you know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?"

"I know, Lance," she said. "I just felt a little overwhelmed by all of it, you know. I'm a very simple girl. I didn't ask for all of this crazy."

"Lancelot's not real you know," Lance reassured her, "he's only an act I put on to please the fans and the media. I'm only myself when I'm with you which is why I find your company so refreshing."

"I feel like you're the Aladdin under the Prince Ali," she said, sighing. "I prefer the Aladdin."

"You have this weird thing for Disney, don't you?"

"I wanted to be a Disney princess when I was little," she said, blushing. "Jasmine, to be precise. And… I did have a bit of a crush on Aladdin when I was seven."

"Noted," he said. "Jasmine was hot."

"Hey," she said, warningly. "If you ever cheat on me with a cartoon character, I'll kill you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Does that mean you'll go out with me sometime?"

"Yeah," she said, lightly, "I guess it does."

Morgana was right. She couldn't be the girl who pined for her unattainable boss forever or she'd end up an old maid. She needed to walk on the edges a bit and do something a little crazy. Let her hair down.

And if dating a pop star didn't qualify as letting her hair down, she didn't know what would.

* * *

It was a hectic day in Pendragon Publishing Inc. Most of the magazines were going to print, which meant Arthur had to sign off on each one and approve thousands of spreads in just one day. It was like someone had thrown him in hell.

Which was strange, because he'd _definitely_ been in heaven that morning.

"Stop it," he said to himself as the grin grew on his face, "she didn't mean it that way."

He concentrated instead on the cover of the fashion magazine, feeling his masculinity drain from his body as he read about make-up and tote bags and dresses. It was a wonder that girls actually _read_ this stuff. It was all Greek to him, after all.

There was a knock on the door and he looked up.

"Come in."

Leon came in, grinning at Arthur and closing the door behind himself.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," he said.

"Go jump out a window, Leon," Arthur spat back. "You're just a photographer. You don't feel the pain I do."

"Damn right I'm a photographer," Leon said, "your best one in fact. And I do feel your pain, but my work is already done. When you were here making out with your nanny, I was busy taking some very important pictures."

"I did not make out with my nanny," Arthur said, glaring at him. "I haven't even kissed my nanny yet."

"Yet?"

"Fine." Arthur sighed. "You tell anyone what I'm about to tell you and I'll have you killed."

"I doubt that," Leon said, "but I promise regardless of your phony threat."

"I think I might…er… you might say…"

"You find your nanny attractive," Leon finished for him. "Right?"

"How did you—"

"Two words. Red. Dress," he said. "I remember at that dinner party you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. I had to remind myself you two weren't actually together."

"What do I do, Leon?" Arthur asked in frustration. "It would be okay if I just found her attractive. I work with hundreds of attractive people every day. But this one's different. I can actually talk to her and she's really smart and caring. I really love being around her, you know?"

"So what's stopping you?" asked Leon. "From what I can tell, you two have something special. Why don't you just go for it?"

"Mordred," Arthur said sighing. "He still thinks his mother's out there and that she'll come back. He won't understand. The kids been through enough, you know. I promised myself I wouldn't bring anyone home until he got older."

"Arthur," Leon said, sitting in front of him. "You're still young, but if you keep waiting for her to come back, you'll miss out on what's right in front of you. The girl won't wait for you forever. I wouldn't be surprised if she's caught someone's eye already."

"I know," Arthur said, blowing the hair from his face. "I mean, she's already been on a few dates with this _Lance_ fellow. But perhaps it would be better if she found someone else."

"Don't turn into me, Arthur. You're much stronger than that," Leon scolded. "When Sarah left Emily and me, I thought the same thing. I didn't want to see anyone, because I was too worried about how it would affect Emily. I didn't date for three years. I met a girl and we hit it off, but I too couldn't ask her out because of my fear."

"What happened?" Arthur asked.

"She ended up with a moron and forgot all about me," Leon said, sadly. "It's ancient history now."

Leon wasn't looking at him but at a photo spread in the fashion magazine. Arthur followed his gaze and nearly fell out of his chair when he recognized who was in the photo.

"Morgana?" Arthur managed to ask once the shock had worn off. "When did you two—?"

"We met on a photo shoot for Calvin Klein," Leon said, sighing. "We talked for months, but I never took it any further than that. Then she stopped calling entirely when she met Alvarr."

Arthur sat back in his chair, not knowing exactly what to say.

"I really screwed up," said Leon. "I think we really could have had something special."

"Besides Merlin," Arthur said, looking at his friend with respect, "you're the one other person I would be happy to see my sister date. I know you'd take good care of her."

"But she's with Alvarr now," Leon said. "One of the other photographers told me he saw them kissing on his set a few days ago."

Arthur sat up immediately. "Morgana's not with Alvarr," he said. "She broke it off with him. I'm certain of it."

"Whatever she told you," Leon said, shaking his head, "was a lie. I'm certain of it. Trust me, I'd be the first one to know if she was single."

"I can't believe this," Arthur said, laughing aridly. "I can't believe she'd lie to me like this. I guess I should have seen this coming, given her track record."

"Anyways, I just came to drop off the prints from the 10th floor," said Leon, placing a folder on his desk. "I've got some editing to do. You don't pay me for nothing, after all."

Arthur just nodded, feeling completely shell shocked that his sister had lied to him. Again.

"And Arthur?"

Leon had turned to him with a smile on his face that made him look at least five years younger.

"Go for it," he said, giving him a thumbs-up before closing the door behind himself.

Arthur thought his head would explode from the influx of information he'd just received. Morgana had lied to him. Leon _liked_ Morgana. Gwen…

He shook his head and buried himself deep in his work. He would deal with everything once he came home. That was when all hell would break loose.

* * *

The recess bell rang and Mordred felt like he was going to be sick all over his favorite shirt.

This was it. If he didn't succeed, he'd never be able to show his face on the playground again. If he won, Gareth would no longer be a problem for him.

He walked over to the black top with a heavy heart. It was now or never.

"Gareth!" he shouted, his voice much more confident than he felt.

The blond boy turned to him with an arrogant smirk, holding a basketball at his side.

"If it isn't the little baby," he said. "Have you come back for another beating?"

"No," said Mordred, reaching into his book bag. "I came back to do this."

He dropped a box of crayons onto the black top with a resounding thud.

"I, Mordred Pendragon, challenge you to a Crayola-off," he said, looking the boy straight in the eye. "The winner gets to chose the loser's punishment."

Gareth laughed.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," he said, shoving him a little. "I'm the king of Crayola."

Kids from all over the playground seemed to stop what they were doing to watch and listen.

"Mordred!"

Annie managed to fight her way through the growing crowd to run up to him. Her tanned cheeks were pink and her hair bows were out of place, but Mordred thought she still looked perfect.

He thought she was going to hell at him for doing something stupid like challenging a big kid. That he was too small to even think of challenging, let alone finish Gareth.

Instead, she just pulled two torn sheets of paper from her pocket and showed them to him.

"You're amazing," she said, smiling softly. "I just know you'll beat him."

She kissed him on the cheek, and a blush spread across his cheeks like wildfire.

"So that's it then, Annie?" said Gareth, sneering at her. "I thought you liked _me_."

"You're just a big bully, Gareth," she said, glaring at him. "You're not even my friend anymore since I saw what you and your friends did to Mordred!"

"Well," he said, glaring right back at her, "You're a green skittle!"

The crowd gasped. This was an insult of the highest degree. No one really liked the green skittles.

"That's it!" Mordred shouted, pulling off his backpack. "You're going down!"

He motioned for a red-haired forth grade boy with glasses to bring the paper and coloring books.

"The rules are simple," Mordred said. "There are three things we must do. The person who wins the most wins the game."

"For the first challenge, you'll each name a color from the Crayola 128 crayon set. You have three seconds to think of a color. The person who cannot think of a color loses," he said, reading from a piece of paper.

"I know the rules," Gareth shouted at him. "I've never been beat—"

"In alphabetical order," said Percival raising an eyebrow. "You can't just know the colors."

"I'll still win!" the boy said arrogantly. "Let's just get this over with so I can play basketball."

Mordred groaned. Gwen had refused to let him make up the rules. Something about integty. She'd told him to let another, older kid make up the rules. He was actually nervous now. He was definitely as smart as at least a forth grader, but he wasn't sure he could do it with all these people.

"You can do it!" Annie whispered enthusiastically in his ear as she squeezed his shoulders. "I have faith in you."

Mordred looked up at Percival and nodded, feeling more confident than ever.

"Let's do this."

"Alright," said Percival, pushing his glasses closer to his nose. "Gareth will go first. You may now begin."

Gareth crossed his arms over his chest confidently. It was obvious he didn't think he was going to lose.

"Almond."

"An-Antique Brass!"

"Aquamarine."

"Asparagus…" Mordred said cringing. Yuck.

"Atomnic Tangerine."

"Banana Mania!"

"Beaver!"

"Bittersweet!

"Blizzard Blue!"

Percival shook his head, smiling a little.

"I'm afraid that's wrong, Gareth," he said. "You missed a color. You lose."

Gareth looked astounded as he seemed to realize his mistake. In his arrogance, he'd skipped a vital color.

"If Mordred can think of the color—"

"Black!" Mordred said without missing a beat. "The color is black!"

"Mordred wins!" Percival shouted. "The score is one to zero."

The crowd cheered and some of them even began chanting Mordred's name.

"Fluke," said Gareth, rolling his eyes. "You'll never beat me on the next one."

Percival tore two identical sheets from a coloring book one to Mordred and Gareth respectively.

"The next task is coloring. First person to color outside the lines loses," said Percival.

Gareth cracked his knuckles. Mordred was getting the idea that the older boy was finally taking him seriously.

"Your time starts now!"

Mordred had to stifle his giggles as he turned the picture over. It was a very happy looking clown. Gwen would be really scared if she was here.

He chose red for the clown's lips and began to color. He'd lucked out with this one. Coloring was his specialty. He'd never colored outside the lines before.

Suddenly, a rock connected with the back of his head, causing his hand to slip and his crayon to go over the clown's lips.

He looked around and saw Pellinore give Owain a high five near the back of the crowd. Gareth winked at his friends subtly.

"Gareth wins!"

Mordred was about to open his mouth to protest, to tell Percival that Gareth had cheated, but he thought better of it. He didn't want to be known as the kid that begged for his victory. He had integty. He would beat the smug boy in front of him in spite of his cheating.

"For the final round," said Percival, handing out two blank sheets of paper. "You will draw an object that I name without looking at it. The person's drawing that comes the closest wins."

Mordred gulped nervously. He was unsure whether he'd be able to beat him on this one. What if he mentioned something he'd never seen before?

"You will draw a honeysuckle," said Percival.

Mordred looked through the sea of faces and spotted Annie who was smiling at him. He still had the honeysuckle she'd given him. He'd placed it in the glass container, right behind the silver crayon. There was no way he'd forget what it looked like.

He knew he'd won before the challenge had even begun.

* * *

_Arthur Pendragon, the head of Pendragon Publishing Inc., was a wonderful host to me in every possible way. He's really quite nice despite what people think of him. And he's much taller than the media would like others to believe. Oh and he has these nice, trim biceps you could bounce quarters off of—_

Backspace. Backspace. BACKSPACE.

Gwen sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day. She'd nearly finished her review of Pendragon Publishing, down to the last detail with complete honesty, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what she was supposed to say about Arthur. All she'd managed to do was let her mind travel to dark territory. The only part of Arthur's body she hadn't described in the last two and a half hours was his backside, which was all very well because she was sure she could write _pages_ about it.

It had been a week since the very hot almost kiss in his office and she knew she was not going to forget about it any time soon. It would have been better if they'd just gotten it over with. That way, she wouldn't spend her nights wondering what could have happened if she hadn't stopped it.

She shook her head. She wasn't going to let her mind go to _that_ place again.

She didn't want to tell Arthur she hadn't quite come around to writing a description of him yet, since the article was due in two days.

_Arthur Pendragon is much more than just a pretty face. He's personable, well organized, and thoughtful of both employees and clientele. Though—_

There was a knock.

Gwen sat up and placed her laptop to the side and hopped off her bed. When she reached the door and opened it, there was no one there. She'd suspected it was Alvarr, who must have realized the house was empty and it was safe to come out.

She listened until she heard the knock again, coming from somewhere inside her room. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on her window, where she made out the shadow outline of a man.

As she got closer, she realized immediately who it was.

Lance was grinning at her through the thick glass of her window and she almost fainted in shock when she opened it.

"What on Earth are you doing?" she said breathlessly as the cold night air began to nip her at her exposed skin.

"You promised you'd go out with me," he said winking at her, "remember?"

"I have to work today, Lance, I told you," she said, sighing. "If I don't get this done, Arthur's going to be disappointed in me and I really don't want—what the heck are you wearing?"

Gwen'd been so astounded by the fact that Lancelot was somehow hovering at her window, that she hadn't noticed that he happened to be dressed… as Aladdin. The street rat, not the lying pretend prince Aladdin.

Her eyes centered on his exposed chest and arms. Aladdin was cute, no doubt about it, but Lance was off the charts hot.

"Mind letting me in?"

Gwen finally looked up at him guiltily when she realized she'd been caught.

"Did you climb up the wall to get in here?" she said, giving him her hand to let him in. "And, what's in the bag?"

"I did indeed," he said, jumping back to lounge on her bed. "All that dancing has increased my upper body strength."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," he said, sighing. "I had my helicopter drop me off."

"I can't believe it," she said as she plopped herself on the bed next to him looking completely flabbergasted. "_You_ have a helicopter?"

He nodded, pulling his duffle bag onto the bed with little effort.

"First thing I ever bought after my very first record dropped. It was my father's dream to own a helicopter so he could fly over the Andes," he said chuckling. "Now you know where I get my crazy from."

"That's a wonderful dream," she said, placing one hand on his chest. "I think it's healthy to have a dream or two, you know?"

His chest was cold under her warm touch. He'd been waiting in the cold night air, after all and she'd been under her warm covers.

"You're cold," she said, looking up at him. "Would you like a blanket or something?"

"I can think of a million other ways to warm myself up and one of them is sitting right next to me," he said, smirking.

She removed her hand.

"We're taking it slow, remember?" she said, blushing despite herself. "You can't say stuff like that and expect me to be able to keep that promise."

"Fine," he said, sighing. "I promise I didn't dress like your favorite Disney prince just so I could get you to sleep with me. Though that would have been an added bonus—"

"Can it, Cassanova," she said, blushing harder. "You still haven't told me why on earth you're dressed like Aladdin."

He held up a hand, motioned her to wait. He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a light blue gauzy outfit.

"Put this on, princess," he said, grinning at her.

She lifted the garment with her hand and raised her eyebrow at him.

"Do you… have some sort of fetish or something?" she asked cautiously.

"Why does everything have to have some ulterior motive?" he asked, placing the outfit in her hand. "Just put it on."

"Alright," she said, gingerly taking the outfit off his hands. "Turn around."

Gwen wasn't quite sure how Lance had knew her size. The outfit fit her perfectly, although the pants sat much lower on her waist than she expected. Typical guy, that Lance.

"Can you help me with this zipper, please?" she asked.

A few seconds later, she felt his breath on her neck.

"Do I have to?" he whispered in her ear as he fingered the zipper. "I have things planned, of course, but I wouldn't mind staying in."

He pressed his lips to her upper back and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Gwen leaned back into his touch, smiling a little, and feeling like she could just melt onto the floor.

She felt his hands beginning to slip the short garment off her shoulders.

"Lance," she said, clearing her throat. "The _zipper_."

"Right," he said, and she could tell he was smirking at her from behind, the slick little bastard.

When he was finished, she took a cautious step to the left of him so she wouldn't fall for his charms again.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see," he said, encircling a hand around her wrist and leading her through her own door.

They walked down the stairs hand in hand and Gwen felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. It felt so good to be going out on a date again.

Before she knew it, they were outside standing in front of a sleek black motorcycle.

Gwen blanched.

"That's not a helicopter," she said slowly, looking back and forth from the contraption to her boyfriend.

"Well spotted," he said, chuckling.

"I told you I have this thing about people driving me—"

"I'm a safe driver," he said as he threw a helmet at her. "I had someone drop it off here. It doesn't make much sense to take a helicopter when we're going less than 5 miles away."

"You just flew in from a concert in Mexico," Gwen said, narrowing her eyes. "Driving while you're tired is just as bad as driving whilst intoxicated—"

"Do you trust me?" he asked, simply.

"Of course I do."

"Then hop on," he said, straddling his bike and holding a hand out to her. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, alright?"

Slowly, _hesitantly_, she sat behind him, pulling her body as close to his as she could and wrapping her hands around his lithe body.

"Are you ready?"

She closed her eyes, tightened her grip around his waist, and nodded into his back.

The motorcycle took off and she held onto Lance tightly.

"Relax!" he yelled over the loud whirring and the rushing wind. "I would never let you fall."

Gwen loosened her hold a tiny bit and cracked an eye open.

She had to admit, the view was breathtaking. As they drove, colored streams of light surrounded them like a sieve. She found it both exhilarating and comforting all at the same time. Motorcycles had previously been a mystery to her. She'd never understood why people would increase their risk of accidents just to ride.

"Not so bad, is it?" he asked.

"Not at all!" she said, happily. "This is amazing!"

He turned smoothly into a parking lot, steadied his bike and hopped off.

Gwen's feet, on the other hand, seemed to be glued to the side of the motorcycle. She was gaping openly at the odd establishment.

The building in front of her was shaped like a castle, complete with guards with very authentic looking swords crossed in front of it. It looked like a miniature version of Cinderella's castle from the Disney logo.

He lifted her off the seat and onto the ground next to him effortlessly.

"Well," he said, sounding a little nervous, "what do you think—"

She leaned up and kissed him, stopping the flow of words from his mouth immediately. His hands landed on her waist to bring her closer, but it was over before he could take it any further.

"Ah," she said, blushing. "I got so excited, I guess I got carried away. How on Earth did you find this place."

"I bought it once I could see how much you loved Disney," he said, smoothing his hair down a little. "It's nothing but a glorified karaoke stint, but—"

Gwen squealed and grabbed his hand in her excitement, leading him to the rather impressive drawbridge at the entrance.

"Halt!" the guard said.

She halted, raising an eyebrow at the guard.

"I told you Rex," Lancelot said, stepping in front of Gwen, "you need to tone down that whole stern soldier thing. You're really scaring away the customers. You're only supposed to open the gates. Look at what Blake does."

Rex's shoulder's sagged and he stared at the floor.

"I thought I was doing pretty well, actually," he said, shuffling his feet.

"You did wonderfully," Gwen reassured him. "I actually thought I was in front of a castle when you spoke to me. But, maybe, you should try to act like a guard without making people feel afraid."

"I like her," Rex said, winking to Lance.

"So do I," Lancelot said warmly, pulling her close. "Now would you mind letting us in?"

"Will do, sir," he said, nodding for Blake to lift his sword away from the door. "Enjoy your time here."

As soon as the gates were open, Gwen ran into the building looking just as excited as Mordred in a candy store.

Lancelot watched her as she smiled at him, begging him to hurry up and he felt guilt in the pit of his stomach for what he was doing to this innocent girl. She hadn't done anything to him after all. He was doing this because he didn't have any other choice.

At times, he seemed to forget that this was just a job. Like today. Today he'd felt like he was her actual boyfriend. He'd been excited to take her out, to _impress her_.

"Lance!" she shouted excitedly. "Let's sing a 'Whole New World'! It's perfect!"

Gwen twirled around in a circle excitedly before running up to the stage to request the song. She turned to him and grinned, barely able to keep still.

The Jasmine outfit looked good on her, hugged every curve due to his alterations. His eyes trailed the toffee skin of her flat stomach all the way to her pink lips and cheeks. His heart skipped a beat.

He didn't know when this had happened. _He_ was supposed to be the one seducing her, not the other way around.

Shaking his head, he ran up to the stage to meet her. He motioned for one of the employees to turn up the volume as he took the mic and began to sing the first verse.

The people in the audience seemed to recognize his voice and they all began to crowd around the stage enthusiastically, some reaching into their purses to pull out their cameras. The security guards, dressed in cumbersome plastic armor, rushed into the crowed to confiscate any cameras or cell phones that were out.

Lance had finished his verse, and the crowd cheered loudly for him. Gwen felt a little nervous to be singing in front of all these people. Lance slid his hand into hers and she gripped the mic with new-found determination.

Her voice was clear, innocent and beautiful and Lancelot had never heard anything like it in his life. That was saying a lot since he'd worked with hundreds of other performers in his career. She wasn't the best of course, but there was something very compelling about her voice.

When they sang together, it was in near perfect harmony. They had pure musical chemistry, a rare thing in the music industry. Usually the voices had to be altered to blend together as theirs did.

When they finished, the audience cheered for them and the two of them bowed in unison. Gwen shyly handed the microphone back to the DJ and took Lancelot's hand again as they walked off the stage.

"You have an amazing voice," Lancelot told her once they'd reached the floor. "Breathtaking. I could sing with you all day."

"I'll call Morgana to let her know I'm coming home later, then," she said pulling out her phone.

Lancelot raised his eyebrows at her phone.

"What's 438 stand for?" he asked as she searched for Morgana's number.

"I'm Arthur's 438th nanny," she said, laughing. "He bought me a new phone after I dropped the other one down a hole."

"He did, did he?" Lancelot frowned. "Does he buy you anything else?"

"Stop that," she said, looking up briefly to glare at him. "Arthur's my friend and my boss. It's not at all what you think."

"Arthur's a spoiled rich kid whose never had to work for anything in his life," Lancelot said. "And you know what? I think you're next on that list. That's why you have to be on your guard."

"He's not a sexual predator," she said, deadpanned. "And he's not a spoiled rich kid. He's one of the kindest people I know. He's a wonderful father, brother, and boss. He treats me like I'm a human being. I will not have you insult him around me."

She was so angry he could almost feel the raging emotion radiating from her small form. He decided now was a good time to shut up. He didn't know what had come over him; he was supposed to be the loving, understanding boyfriend. Jealousy was not an option.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to insult him. He's just always there when I can't be, you know? I know he's attracted to you. I've seen it."

"You don't trust me?" she asked, putting her phone down for a moment. "I'll admit, there have been a few close calls, but I've been able to restrain myself each time."

"I trust you," he said, reaching up to touch her hair. "I just don't trust him."

"I won't lie to you," she said, sighing. "I think… no… I know I feel something for Arthur. I can't go any further with you unless you know that. I'd feel dirty."

"You can't pine for him forever," he told her. "He may like you now, but it won't last, Gwen. Men like him never date people like you. They marry wealthy women who will raise their status. He probably only wants to sleep with you—"

Her hand was on his cheek before he could finish.

"I can't believe you'd say something so vulgar," she said, tears in her eyes. "I know it will never work. I know I'm not anything special. But I didn't expect to hear it from your lips."

"Gwen—"

"I was about to tell you that I think you're kind and sweet and gentle," she shouted angrily. "That I came here today because I wanted us to start fresh. I wanted to stop dreaming that Arthur would ever sweep me off my feet and start a relationship with someone who could. I wanted to say I forgive you and I care for you and I know I will grow to love you with time—"

He held her face with both hands, knelt down, and kissed her. She was so surprised that she stumbled backwards into the wall and gasped a little as her back hit the wall.

She felt him slip his tongue into her mouth and a moan slipped out of hers. Her fingers danced across his back as her body arched and the tears fell down her cheeks.

"Mommy! Mommy!" shouted a little girl's voice. "Aladdin's kissing Jasmine for real!"

"Look away honey," the mother said, covering her little girls eyes and staring at the sight herself. "It's not for children."

Gwen giggled against his mouth and broke away.

"They're getting more than they paid for," said Lance, laughing as well.

"I don't think I can sing anymore," Gwen said, sniffling a bit. "Can we get a bite to eat?"

"They sell pizza here," he said nodding. "You can eat all you want."

She turned to him. "You insult Arthur or me like that again and I'll leave and never turn back," she told him, looking completely serious. "I mean it."

"I won't," he said. "I promise."

"Good," she said, taking his arm and grinning. "I'm starving. Let's get that pizza!"

* * *

By the time Gwen arrived at the Pendragon Mansion, she felt really giddy. Despite some arguments, the date had gone extremely well. Lance hadn't just thrown money at her like she expected him to. He kept it simple and treated her to a simple, nostalgic meal.

She felt like a child again, and she could remember how long it been since she was able to have such moments.

"Gwen!"

She gasped as she felt little hands around her waist, connected to a little body that was jumping around in excitement.

"I won! I won!" he exclaimed. "Gareth cheated and I still won! He was so ashamed. He knows not to mess with me anymore. And then, the teacher took them away after I told them they'd bullied me. They all got susbended!"

Gwen looked at him warmly.

"See, I told you violence is not the answer," she said, wisely. "The best way to beat some one is a their own game."

"I still think the paintball gun plan was better," he said. "Or the water balloon one. Or the pies with shaving cream…"

"And if you'd done any of those, you'd be suspended too," she said sternly. "You won because you're brilliant!"

"Now Gareth has to bring me a pack of skittles every other day for a year," he said, smugly. "Aaand he and his friends have to do every thing I say for an entire week when they get back!"

"Mordred, I thought we agreed—"

"I played with integty, Gwen," he said, smiling deviously. "I didn't say I wouldn't make them pay in my own way if I won."

"Just don't do anything that will get you suspended," she warned. "Have you done your homework?"

He ran upstairs before she could ask him another question. Oh well. She'd get him to do it later.

She collapsed on the couch and closed her eyes. The day had been fun, but the day had also been _long_.

"Hey."

She felt a body plop down next to her on the couch and her eyes shot open immediately.

"Alvarr," she said, looking at him. "What are you doing downstairs? Arthur should be home any minute and if he sees you, he's going to punch you again."

He laughed and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Have… have you been drinking?" she asked, leaning forward. "I'll get you a cup of water. I've heard that if you drink water, you won't have a hangover the next day."

Alvarr pressed cheek against the curve of her neck.

"You're so soft and warm," he whispered, his whiskers tickling her neck. "Pretty too. It's no wonder Pendragon can't keep his eyes off of you."

Warning bells started to chime in her head when she felt his hands run down the curves of her sides.

"You're drunk," she said, trying to push him off of her. "You're not thinking straight."

"Morgana dumped me," he said, reaching behind her back to unzip her shirt. "She said she didn't want to lie to her brother anymore. That she wanted to come clean. She believed that I had slept with all those women."

She wanted to scream, but her throat was so dry that she could barely make a sound.

"Guess what," he whispered into her ear, "I did."

She started pounding her fists against his chest, but it seemed to have no effect.

"Arthur ruined my career," he growled. "It will never be the same after what he did."

He leaned down so his lips were inches from hers and she began to cry for the second time that day.

"If it's any consolation," he whispered. "I had to get drunk to do this to you, Gwen. I really like you."

"Alvarr," she pleaded, looking him in the eyes. "You don't want to do this. We're friends, remember? What have I done to you? I lied to my boss to keep you safe. Please… please don't do this."

Alvarr hesitated and, for a moment, he looked appalled at himself.

"Gwen—"

A fist connected with Alvarr's face and he toppled off of her, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

Gwen felt Arthur's arms wrap around her as he pulled her from the couch into his embrace.

"Get out of my house before I call the police," he growled at the pathetic mess sprawled on the floor. "The only reason I'm not beating you to a bloody pulp is that it'll upset Gwen."

Alvarr pulled himself to his feet, giving Arthur a drunken smile. "This isn't over," he said. "There are tons of people out for Uther Pendragon's blood, yours too. I didn't succeed, but I'll watch happily as the others do."

He smiled lazily at Gwen.

"It was fun while it lasted, sweetheart," he said, winking at her. "I wasn't really going to hurt you, you know. I like you. I just wanted to scare you so Arthur could see just how no one in his life is safe. I'll tell you all about it over a cup of coffee."

"Get. Out." Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Alvarr didn't waste any time escaping from the Pendragon Mansion after that.

"You're alright?" Arthur asked, holding her at arms length and assessing the damage. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

"Not physically," she murmured against his chest. "I'm not going to forget it in a hurry though. I thought he was my friend. I helped him hide because Morgana said she really liked him. I didn't think it… I didn't know…"

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt in her frustration.

"Shh," he said. "I'm just glad you're safe."

He reached behind and helped re-zip her shirt.

"I won't tease you about dressing up as Princess Jasmine until you feel better," he said, chuckling. "I'll bet it's quite the story."

"Gwen?"

Morgana rushed into the room looking upset.

"Are you alright?" she asked, noticing how tightly Arthur was holding her against his chest.

"Morgana," Arthur said, glaring at her. "Why did you bring Alvarr into this house after I told you I didn't approve?"

"Approve?" she laughed humorlessly. "I don't need your approval. I'll date whoever I want, Arthur."

"And look how that turned out," he retorted. "You're gorgeous, Morgana. You could have any man you want and you choose to hang around scum like Alvarr?"

"He's the only one that will have me!" she yelled. "Everyone says I'm difficult. I'm broken, Arthur, and only broken men want anything to do with me."

Arthur thought of mentioning Leon's name, but he felt it would just anger her more.

"You're worth more than this, Morgana," he said, his anger ebbing away at the sight of her pain. "You just have to wait for the right guy to come along. He's out there, somewhere."

"You have no right to talk," she said, glaring at her through tears. "You chase away every guy that ever comes close. I've never had one stable relationship, Arthur, because you always screw it up."

"I'm your brother, it's my job to—"

"You're not even my real brother," she said, shaking her head. "Even if you were, it still wouldn't be right to interfere the way you do. I admit you were right this time. Alvarr wasn't worth it and he used me to get to you. But, from now on, I want you to stay out of my relationships. Let me judge for myself who's right for me. If I need your help, I'll ask for it."

Arthur sighed.

"Fine," he said, yielding. "I won't—"

"You can't send Merlin to do it, either," she said.

"Damn."

"I'm really sorry Gwen," she said, leaning over to look at her.

Silence.

"Gwen?"

Arthur looked down at her and smiled when he realized that she'd fallen asleep against his chest.

"She really is like a child, isn't she?" Morgana giggled.

"Wouldn't have her any other way," Arthur said warmly. "I guess she's just tired out from the days events."

He lifted her off the ground and held her against his chest.

"I guess I'll take her to her room," he said.

"I'll be leaving for Milan in two days," said Morgana. "We should all do something together before I leave."

"Sure," said Arthur. "I'll ask Mordred what he wants to do. I promised him I'd definitely spend time with him this weekend. Gwen will kill me if I don't."

"I don't doubt it," she said glancing over at her sleeping face. "She's a keeper, that one."

"Good night, Morgana," Arthur said as he walked past her. "Try not to stay up too late watching Degrassi."

"How did you know—"

"You always watch that when you're sad," he said. "I think you find comfort in the thought that their lives are much more screwed up than yours."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," she said dryly, picking up the remote. "Good night to you too."

The television roared to life behind him as he carried Gwen. He held her close as he walked up the stairs and into her room. When he reached his destination, he placed her on her bed, and took off her socks.

"Before I saw you on that couch, I was so ready to tell you how I feel," he said, pulling the blanket up to cover her. "This is more than attraction. I don't just want to kiss you. I want to talk to you for hours and watch sappy movies because you like them. I want to hear you sing to me with that beautiful voice of yours. I want to take you anywhere you want, any time of the day. I want to be there when you wake up and when you fall asleep. I want to tell you that you're beautiful and convince you that it's true.

He moved a curl out of her face and she smiled a little.

"But I can't," he said, removing his hand. "Now that I know people are after me, I can't. I can't let you get caught in the crossfire. You deserve better than that, better than me. I can't be here to protect you all of the time and I can't afford to lose you. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life then see something happen to you."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering for a little longer than was deemed proper.

"Good night, Guinevere," he said pulling away.

With a heavy heart, he switched off her lamp and left her to her dreams.

* * *

**A/N:** Anyone who liked Alvarr probably hates him now. Am I right? He's a jerk, but at least he has a sliver of a conscience.

Don't expect Arthur to be able to be so noble for so long. Sometimes you've got to screw the rules! It'll take a simple realization for him to go after her. Three guesses as to what.

I promise there will be jealously on all three sides of the triangle in this story. Gwen will come last, Arthur is next. Tee hee.

I balanced out the Lancelot/Gwen and Arthur/Gwen scenes as much as I could. Sorry if their scene was too long. There was a lot I wanted to convey. I'm really trying to make these chapters shorter, but I fail each time. Maybe next time it'll only be 5,000 words as I keep promising.

Morgana will be back and we'll discover why she's "broken". Merlin and Freya will be back soon and Mordred and Arthur will have some more moments together. Next chapter.

Something very big will blow up in someone's face very soon. Mordred mother will make an appearance in later chapters as well as his grandmother.

That's I'll I'm giving for now. My lips are sealed.

As always, let me know how you think. I promised myself I wouldn't write for a while, but I just couldn't help myself. Updates will be less frequent, though. And for those who wished me luck, I'm happy to tell you that my job is going really well. I love it! Thanks for your wonderful comments!

Miki-hime

**::The title of this chapter comes from the Whitney Houston song of the same name::**


	9. Dog Days are Over

Dog Days Are Over

Gwen sat up in bed, having just woken up from a wonderful dream. She smiled as she stretched, her mind replaying the images from the night before. She, Guinevere Leodegrance, had sung a duet with the Prince of Pop. Who was her boyfriend.

She wasn't a very materialistic girl and didn't have many valuable possessions. That being said, she did appreciate the finer things in life and understood that being privy to Lance's attentions made her a lucky girl indeed.

As she stepped off the bed, her foot touched something warm and plushy. Eyes widening, she crawled back on her bed and screamed.

The thing on the ground rose suddenly, the white blanket obscuring its form completely. Thinking quickly, she grabbed her pillow and swung it back and forth at the _thing_ standing over her.

"Hey! Ouch! Guinevere, it's me!"

The blanket slipped off to reveal a very tousled, looking Arthur Pendragon. And, by God, he was _pouting._

"What're you doing here?" she asked, focusing on his eyes and nowhere else.

"You were screaming last night in your sleep," he told her, rubbing the side of his head. "It took me a while to calm you down. I stayed because I wanted to be here if it happened again."

"So you slept on the floor?" she asked, astounded.

"That's me," he said, sighing dramatically, "valiant to a fault. Your knight and shining armor. The Richard Gere to your Julia Roberts."

She hit him lightly with her pillow.

"Hey!" he said, grabbing it and pulling it away from her. "What was that for?"

"For implying that I'm a hooker," she said looking him up and down skeptically, "and for implying that you're anywhere near as handsome as Richard Gere used to be."

"For one thing, I was referring to Runaway Bride, not Pretty Woman," he said, "and for another I am at least on par with him. Just look at these cheekbones! And let me tell you, I've got _quite_ the smolder."

He demonstrated and Gwen placed her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. He looked like he'd tasted something sour.

"The only thing you'll succeed in with_ that _face," she said, raising an eyebrow, "is scaring away small children."

She felt a rush of air and the soft impact of the pillow hitting her temple.

"Never insult the smolder," he warned, sending her a mock glare. "I've spent years perfecting it."

She looked at him doubtfully.

"Maybe you should call Richard Gere so he can show you how it's done," she teased.

He swung the pillow at her, but she anticipated his movements and quickly rolled onto her bed, grabbing a pillow and rising to face him on the other side.

"Are you challenging the pillow fighting Champion?" she asked, holding the pillow like some kind of weapon.

"Self-proclaimed?"

"Ask Susie Andrews and I think you'll change your mind about that," she said proudly.

"I think—"

He didn't really have _time _to think. Gwen threw one of her throw pillows at him and, while he was distracted, she lunged, giggling as she pummeled him with her pillow.

He pulled his pillow over his head and started hitting her lightly on the head.

"No fair!" she squealed, sounding very much like a two-year-old. "You're taller than me. That's against the rules, you big cheater!"

"I'm guessing these rules come from the arbitrary rule book of Guinevere Leodegrance?" he asked, laughing. "I can't help it if you're a munchkin."

She started hitting him much harder after that and the only thing he could do was block her swift movements with his pillow.

"I. AM. AVERAGE. HEIGHT!" she said through gritted teeth.

"Alright, Alright!" he said holding his hands up and backing away. "You're tall. You're a giant! Just stop hitting—"

His foot slipped on the blanket and he began falling backwards onto the bed. In his panic, his arm grabbed hers and she fell right onto the bed with him and collided right onto his chest.

"Ompf!"

A curtain of hair fell over one side of his face and, suddenly, his eyes were full of Guinevere.

"No one actually says 'Ompf' when they fall," he said, his voice sounding a little huskier than he intended. "You've been watching too many cartoons."

"This is the second time I've fallen on you," she said, looking down on him. "I think this bed is cursed."

_Care to try it out_? Arthur thought.

He watched her eyes scan his face and she looked _appreciative._ It made it even harder to resist the urge to close the gap between them. If she lay on top of him for any longer, he didn't think he could stop himself.

"Say it," he ordered, glaring at her a little.

"Alright, fine," she said, rolling off of him to lay by his, "you do have excellent cheekbones."

"And I'm quite handsome," he added, "the most handsome man you've ever—"

"Don't push your luck," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know how your wife ever—"

She promptly shut her mouth when she saw the smile melt off his face quicker than butter in a skillet. She mentally berated herself for her uncouth comment. It wasn't proper for her to say something like that without knowing who Mrs. Pendragon was or what she was like.

"What do you know of my wife?" he asked, after a long silence.

"Mordred told me his mother sends him things," she said truthfully, "which means she's still alive, of course. I noticed there are no pictures of her around the house, which I thought was a bit odd—"

"You talked to _my son_ about his mother?" he asked in a voice she'd never heard before.

"I'm sorry," she said softly avoiding his eyes. "I didn't mean… I shouldn't have… I was only trying to…"

She trailed off when she saw the look of anger on Arthur's face. It sent a white-hot bolt of electricity down her spine and she couldn't look at him too long. He'd never looked that angry with her.

"It pains me to say this, but speak of her again and I might just have to fire you," he said, looking as serious as she'd ever seen him. "I never want to hear that you've asked my son about her or that you've been snooping around. It's not your job. And it's not your place. You're my son's nanny. Just do me a favor and do your damn job."

Not her place. The words repeated in her head in a relentless cycle and it hurt like hell to hear something like that come from his mouth. What he'd really meant was: _ I don't trust you enough to tell you._

"Alright," she said, feeling her shoulders sag at the weight of his heated glare, "I won't ask. I won't pry. I promise. I know my place."

She searched his eyes for something else, but all they reflected was anger and, oddly, _fear_.

The anger dissipated and was replaced with a look of shame.

He reached out to touch her arm, but she recoiled in response.

"I've… upset you," he said, desperately trying to reach her eyes. "Guinevere, I—"

"If you don't mind, _Mr. Pendragon_," she said in a painfully polite tone, "I'd like to go take a shower."

"O-of course," he said, standing up quickly. "I'll just take me leave then."

He tried to meet her gaze but she was doing her best to avoid his eyes.

He turned around, cursing himself every step of the way. He fucked up. He'd made an ass of himself and it wasn't even _noon_ yet.

The door closed softly behind him and Gwen stared at it for a moment feeling so angry she thought she would explode.

She pulled out her computer and opened_ i_Tunes. It was time for the anger trifecta: Aretha Franklin, Fiona Apple, and Alanis Moorisette.

* * *

"Oh my god," Merlin moaned covering his ears. "Make it stop!"

Merlin, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur were sitting around the kitchen table listening to Gwen's rendition of RESPECT. She normally had a lovely voice, but she was anger singing, which was hardly ever pleasing to the ears.

"Why are girls so weird, Daddy?" Mordred asked, looking terrified. "Why is she making those awful sounds?"

"What the hell did you do, Arthur?" asked Morgana, rounding on him.

"Why is it always _my _fault?" he asked. "How do you know it wasn't her—

Merlin, Morgana, and even Mordred looked at him incredulously.

"Fine," he said, sighing, "it was my fault. I said some things I shouldn't have."

"So you should be the one to go up there and apologize," said Merlin, placing his hands on Arthur's back and leading him to the staircase.

"Touch me again and I'll kill you," he hissed at his friend, who just rolled his eyes and returned to his seat.

"You guys are such _wimps!_" Morgana said in exasperation. "I'll go talk to her."

"God, I love you," Merlin said, standing up and hugging her tightly. "You're a Christian Martyr."

"You're quoting a Tennessee Williams play," she said. "It must be bad. You hate his work."

"I'm dying, Egypt, dying," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"Get him some water and a MARVEL comic quickly," she said, handing him over to Arthur, "He's quoting _Shakespeare."_

"I'm on it," he said, helping Merlin to his chair.

Morgana rushed up the stairs, covering her ears, as she got closer to the room.

"—R-E-S-P-E-C-T, FIND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME!"

Morgana knocked on her door as hard as she could.

"GWEN! FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHUT UP!"

She stopped singing and after a few moments, Morgana heard the sound of shuffling feet and the twisting of the metal doorknob.

The door opened and Morgana's annoyance disappeared at the sight of her face.

She looked pissed as hell.

"Did Arthur send you up here to tell me to _know my place_?"

"Whoa," Morgana said, holding her hands up, "don't shoot the messenger. You were slowly murdering us all with your anger fest I had to come up here and stop you."

"Was I that loud?" said Gwen, looking a bit embarrassed.

"They could probably hear you from Jupiter," Morgana said. "Now let me in so we can talk."

Gwen didn't deny her. She just collapsed on her bed, looking sullen.

"Your choice of anger music is interesting," said Morgana, sitting next to her. "Though I would have chosen Lily Allen for a time like this."

"Too much profanity," said Gwen, shaking her head. "Though I considered it."

"You're too adorable for words," said Morgana, pinching Gwen's cheeks, "even when you're 'angry'."

"I wasn't going for that," Gwen mumbled, "but thanks all the same."

"Now tell me what my brother said to you," Morgana said, crossing her legs.

"I happened to mention Mordred's mother in passing," Gwen said slowly, trying to keep her anger at bay, "I told him Mordred had told me about her. Arthur told me I should know my place and reminded me very clearly where my place was."

Morgana stayed silent for a long time before she began speaking carefully.

"You have to know," she said, placing a hand on Gwen's knee, "that Mordred's mother is a… sore subject. It brings too many unwanted memories for Arthur. He doesn't want Mordred asking questions… and for good reason."

"You're being deliberately obtuse," Gwen said, sighing. "That's fine. It's not my business. That's not what's making me so angry—"

"I was getting to that," said Morgana, giving her knee a squeeze. "He should have told you gently. He shouldn't have made assumptions. I can understand why you're angry. He shouldn't have said those things to you. I give you full permission to kick his ass."

"I could never—"

"My God, Gwen," Morgana said in exasperation. "Woman _up_. Instead of sitting here pouring your heart out in song, you need to tell him that he hurt you, that you're angry, and you want to jump his bones."

Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe not that last bit," Morgana said. "I'll tell you what. Call up a friend. We're all going out. We're going to find a healthy outlet for your anger."

She got up, fully prepared to leave. Then she whirled around to face her.

"And if you're on _my _team," she said, threatening. "You need to be hardcore. _Kickass_. None of this courteous crap. I won't lose."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Gwen to wonder what on Earth she was talking about.

She pulled her phone out of the charger, thought hard, and pulled a piece of paper out of her drawer.

She'd forgotten all about it until now, but she'd promised Tristan she would call at some point.

The phone rang for a few moments before someone picked up.

"Hello?"

Her voice was soft and delicate, like a summer breeze. It was very pleasing to the ear. She didn't know why Tristan seemed so afraid of her when he mentioned her at the coffee shop.

"Hi, Iseult," said Gwen, "This is Guinevere. Your boyfriend, Tristan—"

"Oh my God. No!" she said, starting to hyperventilate. "Is he cheating on me? Are you the whore who's sleeping with him. You have some nerve calling me on my cell phone—"

"No!" said Gwen, surprised the girl's sudden change of tone. "No. He asked me to show you around. One of my friends is taking us out and she said I could bring a friend if I wanted. I don't know you, but I thought you might like to come."

"Oh," she said, her voice going back to normal, "I'm sorry. Sure. I'll come. Just tell me where I should meet you."

"I'll call you later to let you know," Gwen said, smiling. "I'm not even sure where we're going yet."

"Thank you so much for inviting me," Iseult said, sounding delighted. "I can't wait to meet you and your friends."

"See you then."

When she was certain the call was over, she sighed and held the phone in her palm. She thought hard before she dialed the next number. She knew deep inside that she was making the wrong decision in doing so but, as they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Gwen said to Morgana as Charlie pulled up to their destination. "This is your idea of a family venue?"

The building was rather large and circular, like a new age Coliseum. It was several stories high, with identical windows placed randomly throughout the building.

The sign in front read Extreme Paintball.

"Oh don't be such a killjoy, Gwen," Morgana said, tutting at her. "It's the perfect place to let out all of that rage. After all, the bastard did cheat on you and used you to get to your brother."

Gwen raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why do I get the feeling this is more about you than me?" she asked.

"It's about the both of us. Besides," Morgana said narrowing her eyes, "I've also got a score to settle with my half-witted brother—"

"I'm right here, you know," said Arthur, waving from the other side of the Limo. "I can hear everything you're saying."

He sent a significant glance towards Gwen, who immediately turned away from him. He wasn't going to get off _that_ easily.

"Damn right you should, you cheating little bastard," Morgana seethed.

"You're just bitter because I'm still the reigning champion," Arthur challenged. "All this time and you've still never been able to beat me."

"Because you're a cheater," Morgana retorted.

"That's never been confirmed," said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "You're just a sore loser!"

"AM NOT!"

"YOU SO ARE!"

Gwen sighed as she opened the door and stepped out, ignoring the pleading glances from Mordred and Merlin. She didn't want to deal with their childish arguing today. She usually found it amusing, but today, it was definitely grating on her nerves.

Another limo pulled up a few minutes later, followed by a red Volkswagen Beatle.

The sleek white door opened first, and Gwen felt relieved for the first time since she'd woken up from her dream.

"Lance," she said, smiling, "You managed to get away from work?"

"Don't you know," he said, smiling roguishly, "I always take off on Sundays in case you want to go out."

She gave him a skeptical look as she noticed he was still wearing black _sparkly _eyeliner.

He followed her gaze and rubbed frantically at his eyes. When he was finished he looked a little embarrassed.

"Alright, you got me," he said, sighing heavily. "I kind of… escaped from a rehearsal."

"Now why would you do something like that?"

"You sent me the address for this place," he said, gesturing to the massive building. "I used to go here several times when I was younger. Nostalgia, you know," he said, looking her up and down appreciatively. "Besides, when will I get another opportunity to see you in such sexy gear?"

Gwen blushed.

"Are you Gwen?" asked a voice from behind Lancelot.

Gwen craned her neck, looking for the source of the voice.

A rather pale blond woman was running up to her, waving enthusiastically.

"You must be Isuelt," Gwen said, returning the smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Morgana would be bringing us—"

"PAINTBALL?" Isuelt squealed, clapping as she jumped up in down in her excitement. "OMG. Tristan hasn't taken me since I beat him miserably the last time! YES!"

She launched her self on Gwen and hugged her tightly. Gwen patted her awkwardly on the back, glaring at Lance who was laughing raucously.

"Wait," Isuelt said, releasing Gwen at last and eying Lancelot curiously. "You look really familiar…"

"He's my boyfriend," Gwen said, side stepping her to stand next to Lance. "_Lance_, Isuelt. Isuelt, Lance."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Isuelt, who looked mollified for the moment.

"Likewise," said Lance, bowing his head to her slightly. "Any friend of Gwen's is a friend of mine."

The door to the black stretch limo opened and Merlin emerged, dragging Arthur along with him.

"You just not woman enough to admit that I BEAT YOU!" he yelled back to the open door.

"And what kind of self-respecting man reads ROMANCE NOVELS?" said a voice Gwen recognized as Morgana's.

Mordred dragged her out of the car with his little hands and she emerged from the dark expanse of the car looking livid.

"I just want to know how the female mind works," he explained. "It's a closest thing to a handbook us men will ever get—"

He stopped talking when he caught sight of Lance, who was standing rather closely to Gwen and raising an eyebrow at him in pure amusement.

"And what the HELL are _you _doing here?" Arthur seethed. "I sure didn't invite you."

Gwen felt Lancelot's arm snake around her waist, pulling her in closer to his side. This was it. It was now or never.

"Of course _you_ didn't," Lance said, looking down at Gwen who was struggling to smile. "Gwen did."

Morgana's eyes widened and her mouth was opening and closing like a gaping fish. She raised an arm to point at Lance as she struggled to find her words. Gwen groaned. She could tell by the slightly manic look in her eye that Morgana… was a _fangirl_.

"IT'S YOU!" she screamed. "Oh. My. God. I've seen so many of your concerts. I'm a HUGE fan of your music."

Merlin placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Morgana. Calm down. It's going to be alright."

"Daddy," Mordred said, tugging at his father's suit sleeve. "Why does Auntie Morgana look crazy?"

"Because all girls are crazy," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "Remember that always, son."

Isuelt seemed to be catching on and her eyes widened as she stared at Gwen and Lance.

"You're Lancelot!" she squealed, her bright green eyes filling with glee. "My boyfriend is so not going to believe this. Can you sign my converses?"

"Right after he signs my Steve Maddens—"

"Guys!" Gwen shouted. "He's not on duty right now. I don't think he wants to—"

To her surprise, he pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and flashed a smile at the two girls.

Morgana ran over in her 5-inch stilettos, grinning like a madwoman. Lance knelt down and signed his loopy signature up the side. He turned and did the same for Isuelt's bright blue sneakers.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're loving this," Gwen whispered to him as he stood. "What happened to you being a simple guy?"

"I never deny my fans," he said, shrugging simply.

Gwen rolled her eyes at him as he flipped the sharpie and caught it in his jeans pocket.

She couldn't help but giggle at Morgana and Isuelt who were holding each other by the upper arm, comparing signatures, and hopping around in excitement.

"Hey," Lance said, smoothing her hair out of her face. "You know I'd write my signature all over you if you'd let me," he whispered, grinning devilishly.

"I should be offended by your misogyny," she said, looking up at him. "But all I can do is shake my head at your cheesiness."

"That was my objective all along," he said.

He kissed her on the forehead she sighed as she melted in his chest.

A few seconds later, she remembered she had an audience and she pulled away from the embrace feeling extremely embarrassed.

She scanned their faces for their reactions. Merlin looked amused as always. Mordred was… _gleeful_. That was no surprise. Morgana and Isuelt looked like two girls who had just seen a Nicholas Sparks movie. Typical.

Arthur looked like he'd just been slapped in the face.

"You're dating… Lancelot?" he asked her. "When you met him in the office… you said…"

"His name is _Lance_," she said. "He likes to separate himself from his stage persona."

Arthur looked at the two dazed girls and back to her, crossing his arms.

"I'll believe that when I see it," he said, scowling. "Guinevere, how could you do something so incredibly stupid? You can't trust this guy. He's using you! He only dates models and actresses to keep up his image! You're just a nanny. I know for a fact he'd never date someone like you!"

It was as if someone had knocked the wind completely out of her. She looked at him, the pain fresh in her eyes and the tears close behind.

"Arthur, you idiot," Merlin whispered, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Arthur seemed to see his mistake and his look of anger was replaced by a look of pure guilt.

"I didn't mean it like that—"

She stalked past him to stand next to Morgana and Isuelt, holding back her tears and glaring at him.

"I know what you meant," she hissed.

"So," said Morgana, stepping forward awkwardly. "I'm assuming it's boys against girls then?"

"That seems best at this point," said Isuelt, eying Gwen and Arthur warily. "I'm Isuelt by the way. I didn't get to introduce myself over the crackling UST."

She gave Morgana a high five despite the glares Gwen was sending her.

"I'm Morgana," Morgana said. "The brooding blond is my idiot brother Arthur, the freakishly tall one is my good friend Merlin, and the little boy is my nephew, Mordred."

Isuelt nodded. "Nice to meet you all," she said.

They all nodded politely.

"Wait," Arthur said slowly, "that means I have to work with _him._"

He pointed at Lancelot like he was something vile.

"How old are you? Four?" Lancelot said crossing his arms. "We're grown men, not children on a playground."

"Those are wise words from the man who threw a tantrum when his sorbet wasn't cold enough," Arthur retorted. "I don't believe your act for a second. You're up to something."

"It's either that or you forfeit, which is also fine with me," said Morgana, looking at her nails with a bored expression.

"No chance in hell," Arthur said.

"Then let's go so we can kick your ass already," she said, pumping her fist in the air.

She turned to the other two, "Come on girls," she said, grinning, "let's get suited up."

With one last angry glance at Arthur, Gwen looped her arms with the other two girls and walked briskly towards the building.

She never thought she'd ever think it, but she the sooner she got a gun in her hand, the better.

Arthur had better watch his back.

* * *

"This isn't a very practical outfit," said Gwen, zipping her green jumpsuit in the ladies room. "I feel so exposed…"

She stood up awkwardly beside her teammates, who didn't seem at all bothered by the get up.

"You look hot," said Isuelt placing an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "We all do. It's all part of the strategy."

"Distract and attack," Morgana said, touching up her lipstick in her compact. "Every girl playing paintball knows these simple rules. It helps even the playing field."

Gwen looked skeptical.

"It sounds like cheating to me," she said wryly, checking her own face in the mirror. "I don't think I've ever worn red lipstick."

Morgana shut her mirror with a snap and gawked openly at her.

"Oh honey," she said, reaching out to touch her face. "You don't get out much, do you?"

"I guess not," Gwen mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed.

Morgana reached into her purse and, after a few moments of rummaging, dropped something into her hands.

"Take it," she said, winking. "Red lipstick is a necessity, just like the little black dress."

Gwen lifted the cylindrical container and gasped when she realized the case was diamond encrusted.

"This is Chanel," she said, holding the lipstick away from her. "I can't take this! It must have cost you a fortune!"

"I'm rich, remember?" Morgana winked. "Besides," she said, using her hand to curl Gwen's fingers over the lipstick, "red is definitely your color."

"Thanks," Gwen whispered, slipping the gift into her purse. "I've never owned something so nice."

"Since Lancelot," added Isuelt, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't own him," she corrected. "He's my boyfriend."

"Which means he's yours," she said, grinning evilly. "I've got quite a lot to teach you when we go shopping. Thank God I've got time."

Gwen had the nagging feeling that the pretty blond would teach her things she really didn't want to know.

"Alright," said Morgana, sounding serious. "I'll take Merlin. He's easy, bless him. Isuelt will take Lancelot—"

Gwen made a sound of protest.

"I think I should be the one to handle him—"

Morgana shook her head.

"You have to deal with Arthur, remember? I'm not just assigning you to him because he has a huge soft spot for you. You two obviously need to talk," she said.

Gwen sighed.

"And Isuelt," said Morgana warningly, "you have to turn off your inner fangirl. This is a code 45, section 7."

Isuelt nodded, suddenly looking serious.

"What's a code 45 section whatever?" asked Gwen, looking clueless.

"Never you mind." Morgana patted her on the back. "Let's roll girls," she said, grabbing her sleek black paintball gun from the bench.

The other two girls grabbed their guns and followed.

When almost stopped to look at her surroundings in utter amazement. They'd stepped out of the girl's locker room and into a _jungle_. There was actual wet grass under her feet and tall trees with leafy branches that bent over them. For a moment, she thought a snake would wind down one of the vines or she'd see a monkey sail over her head.

"They really pulled out all the stops on this place," she whispered in awe. "I feel like I'm in the Jungle Book!"

The other two girls didn't respond. They were too busy listening to their surroundings. Gwen shook her head. She'd never seen two people who took winning so seriously.

Feeling adventurous, she decided to creep away from her teammates and find Arthur on her own.

Meanwhile, Arthur, Lancelot, and Merlin emerged from their locker room, carrying their guns in front of them and looking around for their opponents.

"Alright," said Arthur, turning to his allies, "I think Merlin should take Isuelt. She seems to be the most green member of their team."

"What are you trying to say?" Merlin asked, narrowing his eyes. "Are you suggesting that I'm not good at this game?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. I'd much rather have Mordred here, since he has killer aim, but there's an age limit to these things." Arthur responded without missing a beat. "Anyways, Lance should take Morgana and I'll take Guinevere."

"That's funny," said Lancelot in mock contemplation, "Gwen's the only one that's never played this game before. Don't you think Merlin should go after her?"

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm trying to tolerate you and be civil for Gwen's sake. Don't try my patience."

"You know what I think?" Lancelot said, smirking, "I think you're attracted to her and you'd make any excuse to try to be with her. It'd be cute if it wasn't so… pathetic."

Lance froze when he felt the cold barrel of Arthur's gun on his neck.

"Shut up," he hissed.

Lance didn't look scared at all. His smirk widened and he continued.

"Some guy attacks her and you completely give up," he said, giving Arthur a sideways glance. "You say you want to keep her safe, but you're afraid that the more you open up to her, the more she'll hate you."

Arthur pressed the gun deeper in Lance's neck.

"You really want me to shoot you, don't you?"

"You had your chance, Pendragon," Lance said, narrowing his eyes and pushing the gun away in one swift movement, "let her go. Stop messing around with her head. If you care about her at all, you'll let her be happy with someone else."

Arthur shook his head.

"I don't trust you," he snarled, glaring at him. "She's not like the other airheaded girls you usually date. You're up to something and I won't stand by and watch you manipulate her."

"Guys?" Merlin piped up.

"Right." Lancelot chuckled aridly. "Because that's your job—"

"DUCK!"

At Merlin's yell, the two men crouched low to the ground as bright lime green paintballs sailed over their heads and exploded against the nearby trees.

Arthur looked up and noticed a retreating female figure in the distance. Guinevere. He jumped up and followed after her, gun in hand.

He ran as fast as he could, cursing the labyrinth of trees he had to navigate as he followed her. She wasn't easy to spot in her forest green body suit, but he somehow managed to keep his eyes fixed on her.

Suddenly, she slipped and tumbled to the ground, landing flat on her face. In the time it took her to get back on her feet, he caught up with her.

To his surprise, she shot him square in the chest the moment she turned around. From the close range, it hurt him more than he expected it would.

"Now I just have to find the others," she said, turning to run back in the opposite direction.

"Guinevere, wait," Arthur said.

She stood with her back towards him for a moment as though contemplating whether she should stay at all. After a few agonizing moments, she turned to face him, her expression stony.

"I've behaved… appallingly," he said slowly.

He paused and tried to think of something else to say to her. Apologies were never really his thing.

"You behaved appallingly." She repeated, looking up at him in disbelief "That's all you have to say?"

He could see the anger just below the surface and he felt his stomach drop to his shoes. Uh oh.

BAM!

She had pulled the trigger again and another paintball hit him on the upper shoulder. He bit his lip from the impact.

"After coming here I heard about what a rude-" BAM! "-proud," BAM! "_arrogant_ man people believe you to be, Arthur Pendragon. I never believed them for one day because you've been so wonderful to me. You made me forget that I'm just some little nobody from the lower city

"But today," she said, lowering her gun, "today you reminded me of just that. From anyone else, it would have been fine but hearing _you _say it really hurt me."

Seeing her face crumble with sadness and disappointment made him forget about the pain in his chest for a moment.

"Guinev—"

"If you have such a poor opinion of me, why did you even bother with the rest of it?" she yelled, tears shining in her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "Why didn't you just tell me you thought I was trash instead of making me feel like _this?_"

It was raining now but, through the false droplets of rain, he could see she was really crying.

"Like what?" he asked, stepping closer.

She completely ignored him.

"I know I was wrong to lie to you about Lance," she continued, "but, frankly, it's none of your business. You should follow your own advice and know _your _place instead of saying all of those nasty things to me."

He was standing right in front of her now, anger flashing in his eyes now too.

"I know I was wrong to speak to you like that," he admitted. "I should have just told you that my wife is a sore subject for Mordred and me. I shouldn't have yelled at you and I regretted it afterwards. I'm not perfect, Guinevere. Sometimes I say things I shouldn't and I'm sorry that my words hurt you."

She turned away from him and he paused to lift her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you; the fact that you're dating Lancelot _is_ my business," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"And just how do you figure that?" she asked, glaring at him.

"I don't want him to touch you," Arthur seethed. "I don't want him to even look at you. I think about you with him and it makes my skin crawl and I feel like I want to punch a wall or something."

"Because you don't like him," she said with certainty.

"No," Arthur said sighing. "I mean, _of course_ I don't like him. He's toying with you, Gwen. I know he is. But it's…it's more complicated than that."

"Just spit it out, Arthur," Gwen said, suddenly feeling weary from all the yelling. "I'm already tired of being angry with you. If you have something to say, just say it."

"Guinevere," he began, meeting her waiting gaze, "I… _can't_."

"Then I'll just be on my way then," she said icily, brushing past him.

She felt his hand lightly grip her lower arm, and she stared at it for a moment. The imitation rain was making her feel cold and clammy, but his touch sent a ripple of heat up her arm.

"How can I admit that I think about _you_ all the time?" he said, his voice both frustrating and imploring. "How can I admit that I care about you more than I thought I was even capable of?"

Gwen just stared at him, the fire beginning to leave her eyes as the implications of his statement became clear. She was completely speechless. This was completely out of left field. She'd expected him to bumble his way with another half-assed apology. She was not prepared for _this._

His hand slid from the crook of her arm to her shoulders before she could even blink.

"I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to you," he said, resting his own forehead on hers. "From Lancelot or from anyone who is out to ruin me."

It was far too intimate than anything she was used to. She could feel the tip of his nose on the curve of hers and his warm breath on her face as he spoke. His fingers were caressing her shoulders and the small of her back in a slow, vertical motion that was sending her over the edge.

Her head was a swirling mass of confusion, guilt, and _excitement _at their proximity, but she was in so much shock she could only manage to place her hand on his chest. She was unsure however if she wanted to warn him or feel the warmth of his chest on the palm of her hand.

"I want to do everything in my power to keep you safe, even from me," he said, his hands gripping her shoulders. "I'll put you through hell. That's why I didn't want you asking questions about Mordred's mother. That is why I've tried to convince myself that nothing can ever happen between us even though it hurt me to let you go."

The rain stopped as Arthur wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her to him in a swift moment.

"I know it's selfish, and weak," he said, lifting his head to look down at her, "but I just can't stay away from you, Guinevere. It would take me decades to explain why. I just know I'm supposed to be with you."

He stood there, staring down at her, waiting for her to say something, _anything_.

"I—I didn't know you felt that way about me," she managed to murmur as she kept her gaze away from his eyes. "I don't really know what to say."

"Just tell me what you're thinking," he said, rubbing his thumbs over the curves of her shoulders.

"I have a boyfriend," she said, holding up a finger, "and despite what you say, he's been really good to me. Secondly, your son will hate me, and I've worked so hard just to get him to tolerate me. And last, but not least," she said, peeling his hands of her waist and holding them in front of her, "you're my boss. Ever heard of the phrase, 'Don't dip your pen in the company ink?'"

Despite her reasoning, Arthur grinned wolfishly at her.

"So you don't deny that you feel something too?" he asked, crossing his hands over his chest. "I mean, let's face it, _look_ at me."

"I've seen better," she said, raising an eyebrow, "but I'll admit, you're not bad. You work with what you've got, I suppose."

He looked at her, a hurt expression on his face, before exploding in laughter. She followed suit, placing a hand on his arm to steady her self.

When her laughter subsided, she realized her hand was gripping his bicep, and she tried to pull away in her shock. His hand encircled her wrist before she could bring it back to her side. Her eyes followed his motion until he placed her hand over his beating heart.

She looked up at him and began to feel nervous again at the sight of his enchanted expression. Had he always looked at her like this?

"Arthur," she said, placing her other hand on his shoulder. "I'm the only woman you see every morning and every evening. I think what you're feeling is a result of that. I don't think I can measure up to this idea of me you seem to have in your head. One day, you'll meet a girl who exemplifies all of those qualities, but I don't think I'm that girl—"

He pulled her close to his chest and their lips met before she could blink an eye. For a moment, she couldn't even move. She just stood there wide-eyed as he kissed her. She placed her hand on his chest again. This was wrong and she needed it to stop. She had to push him away.

Only, she _didn't_.

Her hand slipped under the padding of his 'armor' and curled around the soft material of his suit, pulling him even closer. Her other hand slipped through his hair. She gripped his locks on the roots, and he gasped in surprised tipping his head back a little in response.

She took control and captured his bottom lip between hers, slipping it back and forth between her teeth. They were going too fast and she wanted to slow things down. To _savor_ it before her conscience fully kicked in.

It was unlike any kiss she'd ever shared. Lance was an excellent kisser, there was no doubt about that. But he was always cool and calm and, almost _calculating_ when he handled her. Arthur Pendragon was all fire. She could feel it from his lips, his fingers, his chest. The warmth spread throughout her body, setting every cell on fire.

Her hands gripped his shoulders to hold herself steady as he slipped away, resting his forehead on hers. They were both breathing in long shuddering breaths.

"Arthur we can't—"

He kissed her again, more hungrily than the first time. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He cradled her back with his hand, dipping her slightly. Their bodies moved in a rhythm as they kissed. Back and forth, back and forth, as they struggled to find the equilibrium. She could feel his firey passion slowly breaking through the cracks of her resistance.

Gwen pulled away and stared at him for a moment, shocked again at the longing in his face.

"Arthur," she said, stepping away from him, lest she loose control again, "I mean it. This can't happen. _We_ can't happen. No matter how much I…" she stopped and shook her head, looking at him pleadingly. "Please. Just stop making this harder than it has to be."

He shook his head.

"If you tell me you I'm alone in this, I promise I'll leave you alone," he said, completely straight-faced. "I won't mention this again and you and I can just put this whole thing behind us."

She bit her lip, as she often did when faced with a difficult situation. It was obvious what she had to do.

"Arthur," she began, clearing her throat, "I…do have feelings for you. But I also care for Lance very deeply. I would never want to do anything to hurt him more than I already have. He's been nothing but wonderful to me. I can't… I won't do this to him."

"As long as I know you feel the same way," he said, smiling, "I'm not going to give up. _Pendragons_ don't stop until they get what they want. And I've never wanted anything more than I want you."

Something about his unwavering confidence sent a wave of pleasant chills down her spine.

She knelt down to pick up her gun, and she noticed his blue eyes following her every motion. If he kept this up, she knew she didn't stand a chance in hell.

"Then I'll never give in to you," she retorted, her voice considerably less confident.

"I think you already have," he said, looking down at her lips.

She opened her mouth to counter him, but a rustling in the bushes stopped her short. She raised her gun and waited.

Mordred emerged from the bushes, looking as gleeful as she'd ever seen him. He was holding a nerf super-soaker in his left hand and a small paintball gun in his right. His body was completely unscathed.

"Mordred!" she gasped. "You're not supposed to be here. You have to be sixteen to be on this level."

"I already beat all the other kids," he said, shrugging. "It was too boring. I wanted to find daddy so I could help him win!"

"It's too late for that, Mor," Arthur said, patting his son's head and pointing to his vest. "I'm afraid Guinevere already got me."

Mordred glared at her.

"My daddy was a gladiatator in his past life," he said. "How did _you _manage to beat him?"

"Pretty girls are scary when they're mad," Arthur explained. "They have these magical powers that can make us stop moving."

Gwen scowled at him, and he smirked back at her, as though threatening her to say otherwise.

"That's cheating," Mordred said, in a matter of fact tone. "Daddy won fair and scare."

Morgana emerged from the trees, with Isuelt on her heels, both looking quite angry.

"You sent Mordred up here to shoot us?" she growled, pointing her gun at her brother. "You've crossed the line, brother. That's cheating. He's too good at this game."

"Scarily good," Isuelt agreed, looking down at the blue paint on her armor. "That kid's got amazing aim."

Morgana eyed Gwen's armor and looked back and forth between the nanny and her brother.

"I guess the girls win then," she said, smiling. "Gwen's the only one that didn't get hit."

"Nuh uh!" Mordred protested. "She's got green paint all over her! If you get shot, you lose, remember!"

"If I recall," Morgana said, her smile widening, "Arthur's paintballs were orange, not green. It doesn't count if you get your own paint on yourself."

Gwen blushed, cursing herself for not thinking of it sooner.

"I fell on him," she explained, shrugging. "It's kind of dark in here, if you haven't noticed."

Isuelt and Morgana exchanged doubtful looks.

"Riiight," Morgana said, looking back at her. "You that must have been_ quite_ the fall."

"In any case," said Gwen loudly, desperate to change the subject as Lance appeared. "Our team wins. Shall the bragging commence?"

She steeped back to join her two teammates and they all started jumping up and down, squealing as loud as you could.

"Let _that _be a lesson to you," said Morgana, pointing at Arthur . "From now on, I want you to look in the mirror and realize what a complete and utter failure you've become."

"It's not that serious—"

Merlin placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and shook his head at him.

"Just let them have their fun," he said. "If you think Morgana is scary when she's mad, wait until you see the blond one in action. I've never been so scared in my life."

"I doubt that," Arthur said dubiously.

"Well, it's been really fun hanging out with you all," said Lance, glancing at his paint-splattered watch, "but I've got to get going. I've got a rehearsal to get back to."

He looked at Gwen, frowning at the _green_ paint smeared all over her.

"Let's go, Gwen," he said, gesturing to her. "I'll drop you off."

"Alright," she said, her smile slipping as he refused to look at her. "Thanks for coming Isuelt. I suppose I'll be seeing the rest of you soon enough."

"Thanks for inviting me!" said the blond gratefully. "Remember to call me up so we can go shopping!"

Gwen nodded to her and waved goodbye to all the others. She glanced at Arthur for a moment, her gaze reflecting the fear and guilt in her heart.

Then, she turned and walked away, knowing in her heart that this was not going to end well.

* * *

For Gwen, silence was the worst punishment of all. It gave her more time to think about the horrible thing she'd done. Even worse, it made her realize that she had enjoyed it far more than she should have.

In the silence, she couldn't make her case. She couldn't apologize. She could only wait until he decided to say something to her.

"This is my fault," he said suddenly, surprising her out of her reverie.

Of all the things she'd imagined him saying. This had definitely not been one of them.

"I pushed him towards you. I _taunted him_," he said, clenching his fists in his lap. "I knew he had feelings for you and that you were out of his reach, but I kept goading him. I didn't think he'd actually do anything."

"You say it as if he forced himself on me," she said. "He didn't. I kissed him back, Lance, and I think… no, I _know_ I enjoyed it. If you're going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me."

"I _am_ mad at you," he corrected her. "I've been nothing but faithful to you from the start, and I've had plenty of opportunities to give into temptation. I'm surrounded by beautiful women all day, but I look away because you're worth much more to me than some meaningless _fuck._"

She was startled by his vulgarity. He hardly ever said anything profane.

"Oh God," she said, suddenly realizing what his words implied. "We didn't… I mean… we kissed. That's all. I mean, not _all_. It's still horrible in its own right. But we didn't do what you think we did."

"I'm glad," he said, sighing in relief. "You don't want to get mixed up with the Pendragons. They have secrets that will make your toes curl."

"I will not have you insult him," she said, feeling the anger rising. "I did a horrible thing. Please don't bring Arthur's integrity into this. He's a good man. I _know it._"

"Fine, I'll let you figure it out for yourself," he said, brushing her off. "But he's not good for you. He acted on jealousy and lust. He doesn't truly feel anything for you. He just wants to prove he can take you away from me."

Gwen wanted to shout at him, but she knew he had the moral high ground and there was nothing she could do. Instead she sat back in her seat and pondered what he said to her. She thought about their near miss in his office. It _had _happened right after their run in with Lance. Their kiss today as well.

"I entered into this relationship knowing you had feelings for him," Lance said, after giving her a moment to mull over his words. "But I don't deserve this, Gwen. I'm a good man who's been nothing but kind to you."

"Lance, I'm sorry," she said, placing a hand on his upper thigh. "I promise it won't happen again. I was just off my guard."

It was a bold faced lie and they both knew it.

"He'll always have the advantage because he lives with you," he growled. "That's why I want you to come live with me."

They pulled up to the Pendragon mansion and Gwen turned to look at him, her mouth agape.

"You know I can't do that," she said. "I have a job here. I—"

"I know you don't want to be a nanny forever," he said, cutting her off. "I'll help you with whatever you want. I can help you build a career. Living in this house isn't your only option anymore."

"But Mordred—"

"They'll find someone who can take your place," said Lance, brushing off her concern. "I can have someone drop you off until they find someone else."

"Don't you think it's too soon for us to be living together?" she asked, grasping for some kind of counterargument.

"I think it's unfair for you to be living with a man who's attracted to you," he said, leaving no room for argument. "It's not fair to me and I won't stand for it. You have to make a choice and decide for yourself what you want."

She shook her head and placed her hand back in her lap.

"But I don't _know_ what I want," she said sounding exasperated. "I don't know. This is all too much for me to digest."

"Then we should take a break," he said, sighing.

She knew this was coming, she just hadn't prepared for it as much as she'd hoped. Her entire body felt cold as she turned to stare at him wide eyed.

"Until you figure out what you want," he said, looking away from her, "we shouldn't see each other. I'll wait for you for one month. Then I'll let you go. You're free to see whomever you want until then, even _Pendragon_. But mark my words; he'll break your heart and you'll realize that I'm the one who really understands you. The one who really loves you and has never stopped loving you even after today."

He snapped his fingers and the chauffeur walked around and opened the door for her. She sat there, still immobilized by shock.

"Lance, I—"

"Please," he said, still refusing to look at her, "just go."

She sent him one last glance, pleading for him to forgive her, to give her some words of comfort. _Anything_.

He still refused to look to look at her, waiting for her to take her leave.

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry for all of this," she said, still looking at him

She slipped away, out of his car, knowing in her heart that there was probably no turning back from this.

When he was certain she was out of earshot, he pulled the pen out of his pocket and pressed the button on its side.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and started dialing the number with shaking hands.

"Listen," he said, "I can't do this anymore. I'm done. I can't even say what I feel anymore. I just let her go because you told me to and I'm pretty sure she's not coming back after this."

"Are you telling me you care more about this girl than your own flesh and blood?" said the voice on the line. "Without my help, you'll lose the one thing that's most important to you. If everything goes the way it's supposed to, you get the girl and you'll get what I promised. You just have to be patient."

"You have to promise me she won't get hurt," he said, sternly. "I didn't care at first, but she… she's just _different_. She's worked hard to forget everything that's happened. She doesn't need someone to bring it up."

"She won't get hurt if you do what I say," the voice said. "I'll call you soon. There's something else I need you to do for me."

The line went dead and Lance threw the phone against the leather seat and stared hatefully at it for a few moments.

Right now, he wanted more than anything to go back to that house and tell her not to go, but he knew he couldn't betray one loved one for another, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"My feelings don't matter," he said, sighing. "I will not come between them for now," he said, leaning back in his seat.

He knew Arthur was bound to mess things up _without _his help.

* * *

"I thought we were going home," said Morgana, looking from Merlin to her brother suspiciously. "Why on Earth are we in front of Pendragon Publishing? Aren't you off today?"

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," Arthur said, grinning.

"Arthur," she said, her voice slow, "I've told you you're a horrible matchmaker. You set me up with that Gawain guy from work, remember. And, if I recall, it was an f'ing disaster. He ran off with the barmaid."

Arthur, still grinning, reached over, opened the door and shoved her unceremoniously out of the limo.

Morgana started banging on the car door, screaming obscenities at her smirking brother.

"You still haven't changed, Morgana."

She straightened and turned around quickly, instantly recognizing the voice.

"Leon," she said, actually tilting her head to look up at him. "What are you doing here?

"Arthur told me he needed to approve the pictures of the last photo shoot," he said, narrowing his eyes at his boss through the tinted windows, "even though he signed off on them less than a week ago. I didn't know you'd be here, to be honest."

"Oh," she said, desperate to look anywhere else but in his eyes. "I suppose I'll just go then. I have to pack, after all. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"No!"

She gave him a strange look.

"I mean, it's been so long, after all," he said, threading his fingers through his hair. "It would be a shame if you left before we could catch up."

He was fiddling with the edges of his camera strap and Morgana couldn't help but smile a little at his cute nervousness.

"Sure, " she said, leaning back against the limo. "I mean, I don't have anything else planned. I could really go for a Cosi salad."

He chuckled. "What you really mean, is that you could really go for a burger and fries," he said.

"Oh, _god_ yes," she said. "I forgot that you know how to speak model."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I know how to speak _Morgana_."

She swatted his shoulder and he dodged expertly, grinning widely at her.

"Just take me to dinner, you big clumsy oaf," she said, taking his left hand in hers.

"I've missed you too, Morgana," he said.

As he walked away, hand and hand with her, he turned around and mouthed 'thank you' to Arthur, who gave him a thumbs up in return.

"Just call me Dr. Love," he said, leaning back in his chair and looking extremely satisfied.

"No, I'd rather keep my lunch inside my stomach, thank you," Merlin said, looking disgusted.

He taped on the window that separated the chauffeur from the passengers.

"Yes, Master Emrys," said Charles. "Where would you like to go?"

"New Hope Hospital," he said.

"Right away, sir," he said, beaming at him.

"Ok, fine I get it," said Arthur. "My joke was so bad you have to go to the hospital. Hardy har."

He placed Mordred's head on one of the decorative pillows. He'd fallen asleep on the way back from Extreme Paintball.

"Now there's someone _I'd _like you to meet," he said, his voice earnest. "I told her all about you, but that doesn't mean you can say something stupid to scare her away."

"What's going on with you?" asked Arthur. "You're acting really strange."

"I saw you," he said, grinning. "_You_ kissed her. In the forest. Twice."

"The only thing that proves is that you're a bit of a pervert," Arthur concluded. "I don't see how that has anything to do with your girlfriend."

"You'll see," Merlin said, his smile faltering a little.

They pulled up to the hospital in less than ten minutes. Merlin had not said a word the entire way there. He just stared out the window, looking solemn. Arthur was growing more and more worried for his friend with each passing moment.

They took the employee entrance, to avoid having to deal with the nurse at the visitor's desk. They took the elevator to the fourth floor, and Merlin knocked softly on a door down the hall.

"Merlin!" Arthur whispered in surprise. "What are you doing? I thought we were visiting your—"

"Come in," said a tired sounding voice from within.

Merlin opened the door, motioning for a stunned Arthur to follow.

Freya sat up in her hospital bed, smiling weakly at them.

"So this is the famous Arthur," she said, giving him an appraising glance. "Merlin described you eerily well. He's told me so many nice things about you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was seeing you behind my back."

"No, Ma'am," Arthur said.

"I'm dying," she said, laughing, "I'm not a drill sergeant."

"Freya!" Merlin said disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't talk about your condition so frankly."

"He treats me like such a doll sometimes," she said, turning to Arthur. "It's sweet, but sometimes, I just want to punch him."

"This is the general consensus when it comes to Merlin." He sighed. "He's an annoyance to all."

"That's not true," he said, pouting a little. "_Gwen_ likes me."

"Gwen probably writes mean things about you in her journal, dear," she said, patting his leg comfortingly. "No one's that nice."

"Some girlfriend you are," Merlin mumbled.

"And from what I hear," she said, ignoring Merlin, "she likes _you_, Arthur. Not that that's an uncommon thing. Half this floor is in love with you."

Merlin eyed her suspiciously and she sighed, grabbing his hand.

"No, not _me_ of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "I unfortunately am attracted to tall, big-eared, jealous types."

She turned to Arthur again, once again ignoring her pouting boyfriend.

"Your face just lit up when we said her name," she said, smiling softly. "That's something you can't hide. I can tell you really like this girl."

"I do," he said, collapsing in the visitor's chair next to her, "and I told her that I won't give up, but she's with someone else. Someone I can't stand and who I think is up to no good."

"Screw him," she said, simply. "And screw your defeatist attitude. You're Arthur freaking Pendragon. Stop being a wuss and go after her with all you've got. Use every trick in your arsenal, if you have to. I promise she won't stand a chance."

Arthur turned to Merlin and smiled. "I approve of this one."

"That's because you're practically the same person," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "Which is a little scary when I think about it."

"I don't want to see you in this room until you've won her over. I don't care if you have to pull a Mr. Darcy to do it," Freya said, pointing at the door. "Go."

"You sure you're not dating a drill sergeant?" Arthur asked Merlin.

Merlin shrugged.

"Sometimes I wonder."

"Thank you, Merlin," he said, nodding at his friend. "I understand why you brought me here and how hard it must have been for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, shrugging again.

Arthur noticed that he gripped Freya's hand even harder, despite his nonchalant statement.

"Thank you, Freya," Arthur said, turning to her. "I suppose I'll be seeing you really soon."

"That's more like it," she said, nodding.

He said his thanks one more time before leaving the couple alone in the room. He sensed that time was not on their side and he didn't want to take any more of it away from them.

"Now I'm in the mood for some Pride and Prejudice," Freya said once Arthur left.

"The Keira Knightly one?" Merlin asked hopefully.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "The Colin Firth one. It's _my_ turn for unattainable celebrity eye candy."

Merlin groaned.

"Fine," he said, lifting the covers and hopping into bed with her, "but tomorrow, we're watching Transformers."

* * *

After putting Mordred to bed, Arthur knocked on Gwen's door, feeling more confident than ever.

When the door swung open, he was surprised to see, that her eyes were red and her normally tidy hair was a complete mess.

"Arthur," she said, hastily wiping her tears away, "is there something you need?"

"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice a little more forceful than he intended. "What happened?"

"Lance knows what happened during paintball," she said, hugging herself. "He's thinks we should…see other people for a month. He… broke up with me. Just like that. He didn't even give me any time to explain."

"Of course he didn't, the bastard," Arthur replied, trying hard to keep the grin from his face. "He's probably off kissing some model as we speak."

This brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes and Arthur cursed himself for his insensitivity.

"Gosh, I'm horrible at this," he mumbled. "Look, Gwen," he said, looking her in the eyes. "No man is worth your tears. He can't even see them and if he cared enough, he would be the one at your door, not me."

"Why _are_ you here?" she asked, sniffling. "This is half your fault."

"And I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he said without a moment's hesitation. "I'd do it right now if you'd let me."

"I won't," she said a little too quickly. "I've become a loose woman, thanks to you."

He eyed her bunny slippers skeptically.

"I don't think you're in danger of becoming a loose woman any time soon," he said.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I'm here because my job… is to woo," he said, leaning against her doorframe.

"To woo," she said, deadpanning.

"_Yes_," he said. "I won't stop trying until you say yes."

He tried to cross his legs, but he immediately lost his balance and fell forward onto the floor.

He lay sprawled in front of her, looking embarrassed. She covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

She knelt down in front of him and he looked up at her, blushing a little from the mishap.

"You're ridiculous," she said, placing her hand on his cheek, "but cute all the same."

She pressed her lips to his forehead and he closed his eyes, relishing the feeling.

"Thanks. I really needed a good laugh," she said, patting the top of his head before standing up.

"Good night, Arthur."

She sent him a soft smile before closing the door behind her.

He sighed. This was definitely going to be much harder than he thought.

* * *

This chapter was important and I've been wanting to write it for ages so it's the longest one yet.

I know I promised more Mordred, but then I realized how much Mordred there is in the next chapter and I didn't feel nearly as bad. He's not going to be pleased when he discovers this new development. It's going to have to stay secret.

But yay! Confessions are out, even though it took jealousy to coax it out of him. Look out for more wooing in the next few chapters. I'm having a lot of fun writing it :0).

I know I said this story would be Merlin/Morgana, but I've found that I can't imagine him with anyone but Freya in this story. So I've changed a few things up. Don't kill me, please.

And Lance? I actually felt bad for him while I was writing. Then I remembered that he's lying to Gwen and I didn't feel nearly as bad anymore.

As always, let me know what you thought of this chapter. It took me ages to write. I'm trying to get out two more chapters before school starts and I have to go on hiatus until at least November :(

Thanks for reading!

**::The title of this chapter comes from the Florence + the Machine song of the same name. ::**


	10. Somewhere Only We Know

**Somewhere Only We Know**

"You said what?"

Arthur sighed in exasperation. He'd told the same story to his so-called friend several times already and each time he was rewarded with a raucous laugh. He had half a mind to hang up on him.

"Arthur, how wonderfully archaic!" Merlin laughed. "Did you honestly expect she would fall into your arms with a line like that?"

"I admit I'm a little rusty," Arthur admitted with some reluctance. "I mean, I'm asking _you_ for dating advice."

Merlin scoffed.

"And which one of us has the girlfriend?"

"Alright, alright!" Arthur took a deep breath. "What should I do then? I haven't quite been in the game for a while. I don't know what she expects from me."

"I don't think she expects _anything_," Merlin told him. "She's not a Material girl a la Madonna. Think Cyndi Lauper."

Arthur scratched his head.

"What _are_ you taking about?"

"You are _so_ uncultured," said Merlin in disdain. "She just wants to have fun! I don't think she wants money thrown at her. I also don't think she wants to hear you say _woo_ ever again. I'm surprised she didn't laugh in your face."

"You know I could make a jab at your love for 80s girl power music right now, but I'll restrain myself. I won't bring myself down to your level today, Merlin."

"That's a shame," said Merlin, sighing deeply, "it's really fun down here and you know it."

Arthur pressed the red button on his blackberry, shutting off the call.

He'd decided to take the day off on a whim. Nimeuh had been gracious enough to fill in for him. Almost too gracious, he later thought, but he couldn't really complain now. He had a mission to complete.

He tiptoed down the hallway, as only a real man can, and stopped when he heard Gwen's voice down the hall.

"I think the Brick red sweater goes really well with your forest green pants," said her muffled voice. "It all really brings out your eyes."

"Really?" A beat. "I've never tried that before. It _might _work."

"Tim Gunn says we have to—"

"—make it work, I know."

"Mordred!" Gwen said in mixed glee and shock. "Honey, do you watch that show?"

"Shh! Don't say it too loud! Daddy might hear!"

Gwen giggled.

"I think it's great that you watch that show! You seem to know a lot about colors. It's something you should share with your father. You shouldn't keep secrets from him."

"You promise me you won't tell or I'll tell him you watch that Vampire show!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Mordred made a sound of disbelief. "Oh, Beel! Oh Sookeh! Bite me Sookie—"

"Shh!"

"Now who's keeping secrets?"

"Oh, hush," Gwen said in a low voice as the blood rushed to her face. "Now you can choose the outfit I've given you or you can change. I don't care. Just don't tell your father."

As her footsteps approached the door, Arthur began to panic. He quickly decided to tiptoe back in the direction of his room.

"Arthur?"

Arthur cringed a little but managed to turn around and smile at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't want to wake anyone," he lied. "I tend to make lots of noise when I walk since I'm 160 pounds of man."

"Uh huh." She looked him up and down. "Is that Arthur-speak for 'I'm easedropping'?" she asked.

"I may have heard a little of your riveting conversation with my son," he admitted. "I had no idea that even you were susceptible to this _vampire _fad. I guess you learn new things every day."

"Vampires are interesting," she said, looking up at him defiantly. "If you stepped off your high horse and gave the show a chance, you'd really enjoy it!"

"Oh?"

He raised an eyebrow and stalked towards her. She instinctively stepped back until she was pressed against the wall. He placed his hands on either side of her head.

"What's so good about Vampires?" he asked, moving his hand down the wall and resting it on the curve of her neck. "What do they have that I don't?"

A lump was growing in Gwen's throat as a direct result of their proximity. In her thin blue nighty, she wasn't aptly dressed to hide her body's involuntary response.

"Arthur," she managed to say, "it's too early for this right now. I've got to get Mordred ready for school. You've got to get ready for work—"

"You've been avoiding me since the day Morgana left," Arthur said. "I know I sounded ridiculous, but I was serious. I haven't stopped thinking about that kiss, you know."

"I haven't either," she admitted softly. "But it's not right. If I'm going to get Lance back, I can't pursue a relationship with you. We only just split up—"

"Just give me a chance, Gwen," he said, his voice earnest. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."

She bit her lip, looking up at him as she pondered the offer. His face was hopeful, expectant. He didn't even use the puppy-dog face to coerce her.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

Her voice was hesitant. She didn't want to make any promises.

"A date. Today before Mordred gets back from school."

She sent him a sidelong glance.

"Just a date, right?"

"Do I look like I have an ulterior motive?"

"You're a man," she said, as if her words were explanation enough.

He chuckled.

"Fair enough. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss you out of your wits right now."

She blushed again.

"I don't kiss on or before the first date," she said, trying her best to hide her embarrassment.

"Liar." He grinned. "I don't blame you, though. I _am_ an Adonis after all. No woman can resist me."

"Charming." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know if I can keep up with an Adonis, to be quite honest. I might have to rethink this whole date thing. I wouldn't want to feel inadequate. I think Aphrodite may be available. Why don't you call her?"

"I've tried but, sadly, she hasn't returned my calls," he said, sighing dramatically. "I guess I'll have to go with the next best thing."

She gave him a light shove.

"You're a giant goofball."

"You'll learn to love me for it." He winked. "Come on. Just say yes. I promise you'll have a good time."

Gwen sighed.

"Fine. One date. That's it."

"That's what you think," he said, wriggling his brows. "I'll knock on your door around 11, okay?"

"Where are we going?"

Arthur made a zipping motion across his lips and shook his head.

"I guess you're just going to have to find out."

"Can't wait," she said in a low voice.

Just then, Mordred cracked the door a little and poked his head out into the hall.

"Hey, Daddy?"

"What is it Mor?" Arthur asked, turning to his son.

Mordred motioned him over with a hand.

"I need to talk to you about something."

Gwen and Arthur looked at each other and, for one startling moment, they were both thinking the same thing: had Mordred been listening in on their conversation?

"My little prince beckons, I'm afraid," said Arthur, bowing solemnly. "I guess I'll see you later?"

"You shall," she said, giving him a mock curtsy.

"You guys are really strange," said Mordred, shaking his head.

Arthur chuckled and waved goodbye to Gwen as she disappeared down the hall.

Mordred opened the door wider as his father entered his room. He looked around the hall again before shutting the door and twisting the lock.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"So, what's going on?"

"I think Gwen is a witch," Mordred whispered. "She's cast this awful spell on me and I don't know how to get rid of it."

Arthur had to bite his lip to stop himself for laughing.

"And what brought you to this conclusion?"

"She does this _smiling_ thing. I used to hate it. But now, it makes me feel all warm inside, like I just had freshly baked cookies," Mordred explained while pacing the room frantically. "I really want to hate her, daddy, but she's making it hard. She must know how much I like cookies. She must have read my mind or something."

"Mordred, everyone from here to China knows how much of a sweet tooth you have," Arthur said, ruffling his son's hair. "I don't know why you can't just accept that she's a nice girl."

"I thought Auntie Morgana and Mommy were the only nice girls in the world." He stopped pacing. "And Annie. She's really nice too."

Arthur smiled at the new addition to the list, but said nothing.

"She's cast a spell on you too, daddy," he continued. "You usually don't smile this much. Now you smile all the time. We need to join forces like the Power Rangers. I'll even let you be the red one."

Arthur knelt down and placed his hands on Mordred's shoulders.

"Look, Mordred, I would never hire a witch to look after you," Arthur reassured him. "I know this must be very confusing. You're so used to distrusting your nannies, and for good reason. But I'm telling you, this one is different. She really cares about you, about _us_. You can trust her as you trust me. I know she'll never do anything to hurt you."

Mordred looked up at into his father's eyes, which were near replicas of his own.

"She won't try to take you away from me?" he asked.

"She won't," Arthur answered, giving his son's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "I promise I will always be here for you when you need me."

Mordred nodded.

"But shouldn't we call J.K Rowling just to make sure she's not—"

"_Mordred,_" Arthur warned.

"Fine," he said, sighing deeply, "if she betrays us to Voldemort, it's all your fault."

Arthur's eyes traveled to an overturned book on his son's bed. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

So that explained it.

"Since when did you start reading for fun?" Arthur said, gesturing to the book. "I used to have to practically tie you down."

"Annie let me borrow it," he said, beaming. "I read the first two in three days. I never thought reading could be so fun!"

"I've got to meet this girl," Arthur said, ruffling his son's hair. "Maybe she can get you to actually eat your vegetables."

"Nice try daddy. We're coming up with a plan to rid the world of vegetables," he said proudly.

"Well there goes that dream," Arthur said, smiling a little. He glanced at his watch. "You'd better hurry or you'll be late for school, Mor. Have a good day and try not to get into any trouble."

As Arthur turned to leave, Mordred ran up to him and wrapped his arms firmly around Arthur's middle.

"I love you, daddy," he murmured.

"I love you too, Mor. Don't you ever forget that."

They stayed like that for a few moments before Mordred released Arthur and ran out the door.

As he watched his son's decent down the stairs, Arthur couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He hadn't lied exactly but he had a feeling Mordred was not going to be happy when he discovered the truth. Chocolate Chip Cookies or no.

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence, Morgana," said Arthur, his voice sharp. "When I want to feel horrible about myself I know who to call."

"Oh, shut up Arthur. We've done this for years. You do something stupid and you call _me_ so I can help you fix it. Hence the insult," Morgana said.

"Ok, ok. You don't have to be so…_Morgana_ about this." Arthur opened his closet and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder as he surveyed his closet. "Just walk me through this. It's been years since I've been on a date. I'm out of practice."

"I get the feeling Gwen's an old fashioned girl." She paused. "Go for simplicity."

"So should I wear the blue or the green tie?" he asked.

"Are you _trying_ to scare the girl off?"

Arthur made a sound of frustration. "Could you turn off the snark for just a moment? This is important."

"You're the one who asked for a date without having planned a thing!"

"She's right. That was stupid."

"You let _Merlin_ in on our call?"

"Of course I did. We're a trifecta. Plus, you think I'd let Merlin miss out on your moment of epic fail. I think not."

"If you were here, I'd give you a high five. God I miss you—"

"Can we get back to the issue at hand, guys? I have less than two hours and I only have one shot at this."

"First off," said Morgana, "nix the ties entirely. Go casual."

"Wear that green button down shirt you wore the day you first met. Girls like sentimental stuff, you know."

"Not ALL girls, Merlin," Morgana added, "but I'm sure Gwen does."

"Just trust me on this one, Arthur. Wear the green one. It also really brings out your eyes."

"Does it really?" Arthur asked, pulling said shirt out of his closet. "You think she'd appreciate that?"

"I think she really would," Merlin said.

"And ditch the slacks. Wear those jeans I got you for Christmas."

"Are you sure they'll fit him Morgana? He hasn't been hitting the gym very often since then…"

"I'm fighting fit!"

"Sure you are," said Morgana and Merlin in unison.

"I was voted best biceps in that one magazine…"

"The magazine in your head?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur plugged the iron into the socket and started pressing his shirt.

"Where should I take her then, if not to some fancy restaurant?"

"We can't tell you that, Arthur. We can't manufacture the entire date. You've got to figure that part out yourself."

"No, no, no…" Arthur said nervously. "You can't just… I still need help!"

"Let me know how it goes, Arthur," said Merlin. "Good luck and for the love of GOD don't screw this up. I think you may have found the one girl who will put up with your nonsense."

"Merlin? MERLIN!"

"He's gone, Arthur."

"When I get my hands on him—"

"He's on duty, Arthur. He has patients to see. Give him a break."

"I guess you're not going to help me either?

"Think of a place you love and take her there," she said, her voice wispy. "You'll think of the rest. You may be a giant prat, but you can be sweet when you want to be. Especially with her."

"Thanks, I guess," said Arthur, scratching the back of his head. "It's not often when you grant me a compliment."

"Don't get used to it." She paused. "Look," she said quickly, "I've got to run. I've got a shoot in less than an hour and I've wasted precious prep time talking to you. Good luck, Arthur. You can do this."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled.

But he was talking to a dead line. He was completely on his own, about to play a game that he'd long since forgotten the rules of.

He didn't know how this would turn out. She might spend five minutes alone with him and decide to call it quits. It could very well be the epitome of awkward dates, the kind most try to forget and cringe when they manage to remember.

"_You'll be fine, my little dragon."_

Arthur blinked, a slow realization coming over him as he remembered _her_ words. He smiled in spite of him self, his mood lifting.

Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Morgana sighed as she placed the phone back on the receiver. Her brother really was a hopeless case.

She smiled and stretched as she rolled over in her lavish queen sized bed. Her eyes scanned the room, centering on her cherry wood nightstand.

Her smile vanished.

"Fuck," she whispered.

In theory, she should have been happy to receive the two dozen roses now adorning her nightstand. Instead, her heart filled with dread and guilt at the sight of them.

Leon was such a nice guy. She was certain he adored her, loved her even. He was handsome, successful, an excellent lay, a perfect gentleman.

She didn't deserve him.

Morgana was meant to be with guys like Alvarr: superficial, selfish, and aloof. She didn't like men of Alvarr's ilk, but they made her feel comfortable. She didn't have to worry about feeling dirty or broken when she was with them.

The problem with Leon was his inherent goodness. Being around him reminded her that she herself was not good. She was damaged in a way he would never understand. She couldn't be herself around him.

She had hoped that this time would be different, that maybe she could let herself be happy with this perfect man, that he could rescue her from her self-loathing.

She buried her head into her silk pillowcase. If her own insecurities were the only thing in the way of her relationship with Leon, she could overcome them and try to be happy.

In her heart, she knew she was sabotaging herself. Silly as it was, she still believed in true love. She had experienced it once, a long time ago, and she would never forget the feeling. Never in her life had she felt so… complete. He had seen beyond her pretty face, right through to the lonely complicated center and he didn't run away. He didn't try to change her. He loved the real _her, _not the façade.

And she betrayed him.

She sat up and opened the drawer of her nightstand and retrieved an old, worn baby blue box. She removed the lid and gingerly lifted a tattered, folded piece of paper from the box. Her eyes scanned the letter, focusing on the last few lines.

_I don't care. I love you. That's all that matters. I love you. I love you and I want to be with you._

A dried white rose lay within the box. She lifted it by its stem and pressed the petals to her lips, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall.

"_Merlin_," she whispered.

* * *

At precisely 11am, Gwen heard the knock on her door. She had spent the last 10 minutes trying to zip the back of her dress to no avail.

"Gwen?" said Arthur's muffled voice, "Can I come in?"

She sighed.

"Sure."

He opened the door and smiled almost immediately. Guinevere was standing near her bed, crossing her hands over her chest to hold her dress up.

"Umm…I'm having a little trouble," she said, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. "Could you… er…"

She turned around and tilted her head in the direction of her zipper.

Arthur gulped as he walked towards her. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to help her out of her dress, not into it.

He took in the feminine curve of her back, his eyes traveling down her spine to the zipper, which barely concealed a pair of lacy blue panties.

He clasped the top of her dress and slowly slipped one hand down the curve of her side, stopping at her hip.

Using his other hand, he pulled the zipper up the length of the dress, slowly, taking in each inch of smooth caramel skin.

Before Gwen could turn around, Arthur pulled a silk white tie from his pocket and slipped it over her eyes.

"Arthur…what?"

"It's a surprise," he said, as he continued to tie the tie around her head.

"I hope you didn't build a library or something…" she said, smiling, "This would be the second Disney—"

She stopped herself before continuing.

Arthur sent her a strange look that she couldn't see before shrugging and quickly lifting her off the ground and carrying her bridal style.

"Arthur!"

"Only the first date and I've already swept you off your feet," he said, grinning.

She hit his chest lightly. "Sir Arthur, you are just so humble…" she said, rolling her eyes.

"And you, my lady, are far too kind."

He carried her down the stairs, and out the door, signaling to Charles to start the car.

Charles eyed his boss and the blindfolded Guinevere suspiciously before nodding and pulling the keys out of his pocket.

"Where are we going, Master Pendragon?"

"_Her_ favorite place," he said, giving Charles a meaningful look.

Charles gave a quick nod and opened the door for Arthur and Gwen.

Arthur placed Gwen onto the back seat gingerly and then slipped in next to her, closing the door behind himself.

He noticed that her hand was gripping the door handle tightly.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, "You have nothing to be afraid of."

He plucked her fingers from the handle, entwined his fingers with hers, and lightly kissed the top of her knuckles.

"It's not you…" she said, turning away from him. "Ever since… dad passed away, I always hear his voice telling me to put on my seatbelt as soon as I get into the car. And considering how… how…"

Arthur wanted to slap himself for being so stupid.

He reached over and grabbed the belt, gently pulling it over her body and into the slot.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"It was my pleasure, my lady," he said, returning the smile.

Charles coughed and Arthur looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Charles mumbled. "Just something in my throat."

"Right, then," Arthur said, "Let's get going."

"Arthur," Gwen said, turning towards him, "where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere I haven't visited in over ten years," he said, squeezing he hand lightly. "But… I think she would like me to bring you there. She would like it very much."

She knew better than to push him any further.

"I hate to say it, but this sounds a bit like a horror film," she said. "Guy blindfolds girl and takes girl to undisclosed location…"

Arthur scoffed.

"Great, my date has compared me to a murderer…"

"Don't worry," she said giggling, "If you have any wicked intentions, I'm sure Charles will protect me. Right, Charles?"

"Without question," said the driver, glaring at Arthur.

Arthur leaned over, his lips almost touching the outline of her ear.

"Well I suppose that means that I can't have my wicked way with you," he whispered.

She shivered as his warm breath tickled her skin.

"I suppose…" she said, her voice quiet.

Arthur sat back in his seat, smirking.

He may have been out of practice, but he definitely had not lost his touch.

* * *

Freya sat up in bed, staring out of the window. Merlin had just run off mumbling something about an "errand for Arthur."

She usually didn't mind being alone but, lately, with her condition getting worse, it was becoming clearer to her that she was on borrowed time.

When the doctors had told her that she had stage 3 cancer, She'd been so angry at everyone and everything. It wasn't fair. She was so young. She had her whole life ahead of her.

However, the longer she lived with her illness, the more she accepted it. She knew that if she were to die now, she would welcome death. It was a natural part of her illness, an illness that she couldn't muster up the strength to fight anymore.

She hadn't told Merlin any of this. It was something he could never understand and it would only upset him. Instead, she put on a brave face and spent as much time as she could with him, cherishing every moment.

She knew it was unfair to get involved with Merlin. She would never have to deal with the pain of losing him. Her death would undoubtedly damage him and it would be difficult for him to move on. It was incredibly selfish of her.

However, Freya did not _want_ Merlin to mourn her. She wanted him to move on with someone amazing, someone who did not confine him to the four walls of a sterile hospital room.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on her door.

"It's open," she said, smiling a little. "Back so soon? I'm assuming Arthur just wanted a quickie in the bathroom then?"

Silence.

"Honestly, Merlin, it was just a…"

Her eyes widened.

"Big brother," she whispered.

"Hey, Frey," he said, walking towards her with a smile. "I've missed you these last few weeks."

Freya rolled her eyes.

"You've missed me, huh? You couldn't, I don't know, call me to let me know you're back? I've been worried sick about you."

He ruffled her hair.

"You worried sick about me? Who's the one in the hospital bed?"

"Leave it to you to use my cancer for your own devices," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seriously, why didn't you call me?"

"I've been busy," he said, collapsing in the armchair next to her bed. "I've also been trying to pull some strings to get you on that clinical trial."

Freya narrowed her eyes at her brother.

"Pull some strings?" she asked. "I told you! I don't want to be put above anyone else. If I'm meant to get the trial, I will. It's no use anyway… the doctors say I don't have much time left. Why don't you just accept that I'm dying, brother? You're wasting all the time we have together trying to find a cure that doesn't exist!"

Her brother stood up, glaring at her.

"God, Freya, you're so selfish!" he yelled. "Did you stop to think for one second that you're the last thing that I have left in the entire world? Is it really so strange that I would fight to save my own sister? I know I have to do it because you've already given up. All this accepting death crap, I don't fucking believe it!"

"What do you want me to do?" she yelled back. "I'm tired of being angry. I just want to live my last few months in peace."

"You don't have to be angry," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "But I'd appreciate it if you gave a damn about your own life! I want you to fight!"

He knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his.

"If I have to let you go, I not only want to know that I did everything I could to help you, I want to know that you did everything in your power to live."

He used his other hand to wipe away the tears that were welling up in Freya's eyes.

"Live for me, Frey, or everything that I've done, everything that I am, has been for nothing," he whispered.

She looked up at him, astounded. For the first time since their parents' death, her brother looked completely helpless. He had always been so strong for her, done everything in his power to make sure she had everything she could ever ask for.

Freya embraced her brother, placing her chin on his shoulder.

"I get it," she whispered. "I'm sorry for giving up. I promise…I promise from now on, I'll fight."

He kissed her forehead and smiled down at her.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The siblings quickly turned towards the door.

"Merlin," Freya said, slipping out of her brother's arms. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon. What did Arthur want?"

"Food," he said, rolling his eyes. "That man can't cook anything worth a damn. If it was for any other girl but Gwen, I would have refused."

Freya giggled.

"Oh! I'm so silly," she said, smacking her forehead with her hand. "I forgot to introduce you two to each other."

She gestured towards her brother.

"Merlin," she said, smiling, "This is my brother, Lance."

"We've met," the two men said in unison.

Freya looked back and forth between the two men, a confused look on her face.

"So _you're_ the one my sister has been telling me about?" Lance asked, looking Merlin up and down. "You're the one… that's made her so happy?"

"Lance, can it—"

"I should hope so," Merlin said, goofy grin back in place.

"Thank you," Lance said, walking towards him. "Thank you for making her smile again. I've missed seeing her happy."

"Look, Lancelot—"

Lance placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said, lowering his voice, "the grudge I have against Arthur does not extend to you, even if you _do_ encourage their relationship."

Merlin sighed.

"Don't let her give up on her life," he said, looking straight into Merlin's eyes. "She's the only thing I have left in this world. I can't bear to lose her."

"I can't either," Merlin whispered back.

Lance stepped back, giving Merlin a quick nod.

"I'll stop by to see you later, Freya," he said, smiling at his sister. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will, Lance," she said, "as long as you promise me you'll do the same for yourself."

He nodded, glancing quickly towards Merlin.

"Take care of my sister for me," he said.

"Right-o," Merlin said, winking at Freya, who looked mortified.

Lancelot stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and making his exit.

"Right…o?"

Merlin shrugged. "Sometimes I can't stop the words that come out of this beautiful mouth of mine."

"You're delusional," she said, laying back in bed, suddenly feeling very tired.

Merlin sat next to her on the bed.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a brother?" he asked after a few moments.

Freya opened her eyes and placed one hand over his.

"My brother's afraid that, if someone finds out, they can hurt me or use me to get to him. He's…so paranoid," she said, sighing. "Always getting himself in trouble."

"It's a good thing you're related," Merlin said, smiling. "I could not compete with those cheekbones."

Freya did not smile.

"Freya?"

"Merlin," she said, looking up at him. "How do you know my brother?"

"I mean, he was Gwen's boyfriend for a short time," he said, giving her a confused look. "Did he not tell you about that?"

"No," she said. "No, he didn't."

Freya tapped her nose with her finger. Merlin smiled.

"Someone's thinking hard about something," he said, mimicking her.

She stopped tapping and glared at him.

"You have your idiosyncracies, and I have mine," she said, sticking her tongue out.

"You're a child," he countered, leaning towards her.

"If that's true, then this," she said, gesturing at the limited space between them, "is very inappropriate, Dr. Merlin."

"I take it back, then," he said, before closing the small distance between their bodies.

As his lips collided with hers and his fingers slid under her hospital gown, all thoughts of her brother fled her mind.

* * *

"We're here."

Gwen heard the sound of the car door opening and felt the cool autumn breeze tickle her legs.

"Can I take off this blindfold now?"

"Not yet," Arthur whispered in her ear. "Just bear with me a little longer."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around, sir?" she heard Charles ask.

"No, that will be all, Charles," Arthur said. "I'll call you when we're done."

Gwen felt his hand slip into hers.

"Follow me, Guinevere," he said.

He walked, carefully leading her along for a few moments. Gwen could feel the grass under her shoes as she walked, and the faint sound of rushing water. She lifted her head and sniffed the air.

"What on earth are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"I'm using my other senses!" Gwen said, excitement in her voice. "Like Daredevil."

Arthur chuckled. "Of course you are. And what have you deduced from your other senses?"

"That I have no idea where I am," she said, sighing.

"Well you're about to find out," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Please, sit down."

She carefully lowered herself to the ground, and was surprised to find herself sitting on warm, soft fabric. A moment passed before she felt Arthur's fingers remove the tie from around her head.

Her hand flew in front of her eyes, protecting them from the sun's rays. After a few moments, she slowly opened her eyes and peeked through the gaps in her splayed fingers.

She gasped.

They were sitting at the mouth of a lake, under a tree bursting with pink blossoms. Similar tries surrounded the lake's edge, reflecting beautifully over the water. It looked like something straight of a Monet painting.

As her eyes scanned the fabric below her, she realized that Arthur had somehow managed to prepare a picnic of sorts. The red fabric below them was covered with a variety of different foods from fruit, cheese, and sandwiches to a bottle of very expensive looking red wine.

"You like it?"

Arthur's voice was soft, and she could sense the hesitation in his voice.

She turned to him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

"It's perfect."

He sighed, looking relieved.

"I'm glad," he said, grinning. "Merlin worked very hard on the display."

Gwen laughed.

"I should have known he was behind this," she said, shaking her head.

"When I suggested cooking the food myself, he immediately volunteered," Arthur said, scowling. "Says he doesn't want me to poison you."

"That bad?"

Arthur winced. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, that's too bad," she said, with an exaggerated sigh. "That's a deal breaker for me."

She grabbed a grape and popped it in her mouth, relishing in the shocked expression on his face.

"Really?"

"Oh absolutely," she said without hesitation. "Cheese Soufflé or bust."

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, before laughing simultaneously.

"I thought you were serious there for a moment," Arthur said still smiling as he poured wine into her glass.

"Of course not." She took a long sip from her glass. "Though I do think it's an important skill to learn."

Arthur piled food on their plates, setting them down in the small space between their bodies.

"I've always had someone to cook for me," Arthur said, looking thoughtful. "Sometimes, my mother would cook, sometimes it was Martha. Though I always liked my mother's food better."

He smiled and his eyes were bright with excitement at the memory.

"She had this book of recipes that she updated whenever she thought of something new. And I always got to be the taste tester." He grinned even wider. "She made the most delicious cookies and would fill the jar every month."

Gwen took another long sip of wine. His face was so alive and excited, like a child. She had never seen him like this before.

In an instant it was gone.

"This was her favorite place," he said. "None of us have been here since she got sick. It was far too painful for all of us."

"I'm sorry," Gwen said. "I didn't realize..."

"She has early onset Alzheimer's," he said quickly. "The doctors said it was likely triggered by something, but they haven't been able to figure out what. She barely remembers who I am most of the time."

Gwen entwined her fingers with his and squeezed.

"It must have been really hard for you to come here, to be reminded of that." She lifted her head to look up at his pained eyes. "Thank you for bringing me here. I can see why she loved this place; it's beautiful."

She hesitated for a moment, strengthening her resolve, before sidling over to sit in his lap, her back pressed against his warm chest.

"If I had known you were going to do this," he said, snaking his arms around her waist, "I would have _definitely _brought you here ages ago."

Gwen blushed.

"Not only that," Arthur said, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Being here, with you, I can be myself. It feels so natural. I was… worried you'd spend five minutes with me and change your mind."

She frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"Most women who come after me do so because they want access to money or status," he scoffed. "But you… you don't seem to want that. And sometimes I feel that's all I have to offer."

Gwen turned to face him, her mouth agape.

"_You_ have nothing to offer?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Arthur…that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I don't need anything from you. Just be yourself. That's enough for me."

He looked at her eyes, eyes that always seemed to be looking straight through him. She was too close to him, he realized. So close that he could count every freckle on her cheek and feel her breath against his cheek.

Her heart sped up as his eyes traveled from the bridge of her nose to the curve of her lips, lingering there for a moment. She two was aware of the small gap between them.

Slowly, hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his. After a moment, she placed her hand on his chest to steady herself in his lap.

It took Arthur a moment to process what was happening. However, it didn't take long for his senses to take over. He wrapped a hand around her waist, and buried the other deep in her curls, pulling her even closer. He could feel the soft outline of her form against his chest rousing something in him that had remained dormant for years.

She deepened the kiss, pressing him against the base of the tree. Her hand traveled slowly down the length of his chest, landing atop his thigh.

"_Guinevere,_" he said, his voice gruffer than he expected.

She pulled away, her hair a mess, her lips pink and swollen, her eyes questioning.

_Beautiful, _Arthur thought, moving his hand from her to rest on her cheek.

"I don't know how to say this…"

"Oh gosh," Gwen said, slightly panicked, "Did I do something wrong? I'm a rubbish kisser, aren't I? I can't believe it took me this long to realize it—"

He kissed her, lightly, cutting her words short. A soft moan escaped her lips as she grasped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He broke away again.

"Arthur?"

"Guinevere," he said, breathing deeply, "God… if you keep doing that…"

She cocked her head to the side. "Keep doing what?"

"Kissing me… like that," Arthur said, lowering his eyes to met hers. "It makes me…not want to stop."

Her face colored slightly.

"Oh."

She climbed off his lap and sat next to him against the tree. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pressing his head against her hair.

"I have an entire month with you," Arthur said after a few moments. "I want to take my time, savor ever moment, take it as slow as I can."

Gwen sighed. "And I was the one who said no kissing on the first date."

"It's taking quite a bit of control for me not to push you against that tree, and kiss you senseless," he admitted. "But my goal is to show you I'm the better man. Not that I'm the better kisser. I'm sure I've made the latter clear to you already."

He grinned.

Gwen gave him a light shove. "Arrogance is not attractive, Arthur."

"I'm not being arrogant," he said. "I'm merely stating a fact."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're right," she said. "I got a little carried away. Won't happen again. Ever. I promise."

"Let's not get too hasty—"

"I'm going to become a nun," she said, solemnly. "Only then can I forgive myself for my heinous act."

"Kissing me is a heinous act?"

She giggled.

"No, Arthur." She turned and pressed her lips to his ear. "Giving into temptation."

Gwen lowered herself down to the ground, watching with satisfaction as his face colored slightly.

Arthur wasn't the only one who hadn't lost his touch.

* * *

"Sleeping Beauty?"

Mordred turned to look at his friend, skeptically, after examining the brightly colored poster.

"Yes!" Annie exclaimed, her green eyes flashing with excitement. "That's my favorite movie ever. It's this year's third grade play!"

Mordred turned back to look at the poster, cocking his head to the right.

"I'd give anything to be the princess," Annie said, sighing. "But… I probably won't get the part."

Annie looked down at her shoes, looking dejected.

"That's not true, Annie!" Mordred said, the indignation in his voice surprising even him. "You're pretty and nice and you always color cordinamate. That's what princesses do, right?"

Annie blushed, refusing to look up at him.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I can even give you some red skittles for good luck!"

She gasped.

"Really? But those are the best ones!"

He nodded, solemnly. "I know."

She bit her lip for a moment, thinking hard.

"Even with the skittles," she said, "I'm still nervous. I've never been in a school play."

Mordred was now sure Annie was a witch like his nanny. He had a similar warm feeling in his tummy when she was around. Except with, Annie, it was different. He didn't like that she was afraid—he wanted to see her smile again.

"I'll try out with you!" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Really?" She looked up at him, hope shining in her eyes. She clasped his hands in hers. "You would do that for me?"

Mordred gulped.

"I… uh… yes?"

"Oh thank you!" She hugged him fiercely, jumping up and down in excitement. "It'll be so fun, I promise!"

She separated from him and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

"You're the best!"

He lifted his hand to his cheek, feeling slightly dizzy, as he watched her literally skip down the hallway in sheer joy.

_Maybe she's a good witch like Ginny or Hermione, _he thought, in an attempt to reassure himself.

Something had possessed him to offer her the red skittles. He only offered the red skittles to his daddy or Auntie Morgana. And he'd offered them to Annie, just so she'd smile again.

Not to mention that he'd offered to try out for this play. He didn't know the first thing about acting! What was he even thinking?

He pictured Annie's smiling face, her excitement, her happiness—for once in his life, he was doing something to make someone else feel better.

He would try his best not to disappoint her, even if that meant consulting the supreme witch herself.

* * *

"We should head back to the city soon, shouldn't we?"

They were laying on the picnic blanket now, Arthur on his back, arms behind his head, and Guinevere on her side, facing him.

"Back to my mountain of work," Arthur said with a sigh. "I haven't felt this relaxed in years. I've completely forgotten what it's like to let loose."

"Me too," Gwen said. "Before I started working for you, I'd forgotten how to just have fun. I was always so preoccupied about the next rent bill, always working as many hours as humanly possible."

She rolled onto her back, placed her arms behind her head, and smiled as she stared up at the blue sky.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't the CEO of a company—that I just lived a normal life with a decent job," Arthur said, smiling. "Maybe I'd be a farmer."

Gwen snorted.

"I can hardly see you toiling away at the fields all day."

"Of course I'd bring Merlin with me," Arthur scoffed, "He'd do all the hard work."

"I'm sure he'd love that," she said, smiling widely.

They sat in silence for a while, both looking at the bright blue sky, lost in their thoughts.

"I always dreamed of having another life," she said after a few moments. "A life where my mother, father, and brother were all alive and well. Maybe I'd be a singer or a published author—"

"You…have a brother?"

"He disappeared over 8 years ago," she said, after another long pause. "About a year before my father's accident. They had a bit of a falling out and Elyan… he just left. Never turned back."

Arthur frowned. "Not even when your father…"

She shook her head.

"I doubt he even knows my father passed away. I don't understand why he's never even tried to contact me. I sometimes wonder… if he's even still alive."

Arthur reached for her free hand, entwining it with his own.

"I'm sorry you've been through so much pain, Guinevere."

Gwen squeezed his hand, her eyes remaining fixed on the horizon.

"I won't deny it—it has been difficult," she said. "I've always felt like I wasn't a real person. Like I was going through the motions of life, doing what I had to do to stay afloat."

She turned to face him, a soft smile on her face.

"Strangely enough, I think this job is the best thing that could have happened to me."

Arthur chuckled. "Can I quote you on that?"

"No, seriously," she said. "Of course it's had its ups and downs. But I'm grateful. I don't feel lost anymore. I feel at _home_. Almost like part of the family."

"You _are_ part of the family," Arthur said.

"Not quite," she said softly. "Mordred—"

"I know my son. Mordred likes you more than he'd like to admit," he said, chuckling a bit. "You noticed the pictures of the flaming nannies on his walls have disappeared, right?"

Gwen giggled.

"Hiring you," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "was the best decision I've ever made."

She raised her eyes to meet his, stunned by the sincerity and warmth in his blue eyes.

"I looked like a crazy person," she said, smiling wryly.

"You did," Arthur said, grinning. "I thought you were out of your mind. But then again, so is my son. Match made in heaven, I'd say."

She gave him a playful shove.

"Speaking of my son," he said, pulling himself up to a sitting position. "He's going to be back from school soon. We'd better head back."

He offered his hand, which she gladly took.

"We should do stuff like this more often," Gwen said.

Arthur smirked. "Is that your way of saying you want to go out with me again?

Gwen blushed. "No! I mean… I had a great time! And this place is wonderful, and you're wonderful, and I'm not implying that… I don't want to be too forward… Oh God… I didn't mean…"

He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, silencing her.

"Would you do me the great honor," he said, lifting her head to look into her eyes, his fingers still entwined with hers, "of going out with me again, Guinevere?"

His soft gaze was making her dizzy. He could see the desire swirling it his eyes mixed with admiration and something she couldn't quite place. Had he always looked at her like that?

"Yes," was all she could manage to say. The evil butterflies in her stomach had highjacked her voice and her face was heating up at an alarming rate.

_Pull it together, Gwen! Stop acting like a 12-year-old fangirl! This is Arthur Pendragon, not Edward Cullen!_

"You don't know how happy that makes me," Arthur said, chuckling. "I had this whole thing planned out in my head… if you had said no, that would have been pretty awkward for me."

Gwen cocked her head to the side, intrigued.

"What 'whole thing'?"

Arthur made a zipping motion over his lips.

"It had better not be an elaborate rouse to get me in your bed."

She gasped and placed her hands over her mouth, in mortification.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Guinevere Leodegrance. Did you just make a sexual joke? I thought I'd never see the day."

"Sometimes the words just come out of my mouth before I can stop them…" she mumbled.

"I like when you do that," Arthur said. "It's cute."

"I'm glad you think so." She pointed her lips. "This stupid mouth always seems to get me into trouble."

Arthur gulped, his eyes moving to her lips on their own accord.

"I don't doubt that," he found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Guinevere raised an eyebrow.

"I mean…uh…"

"Master Pendragon!"

He recognized his black Lexus rolling pulling up to the curve. Charles poked his head out of the tinted windows, an odd expression on his face.

Saved by the chauffeur.

"Charles!" he said, his voice more chipper than he had intended. "Have I ever mentioned what impeccable timing you have?"

"No, sir." His voice was slow as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Quite the opposite."

Arthur chuckled. Charles was always honest to a fault; he liked that about the young man.

"Thank you for picking us up," Gwen said, beaming at him as he opened the door for her. "I hope you weren't on your break or anything."

"Even if I was, Miss Leodegrance, it would be my pleasure." He bowed much lower than was deemed necessary. "If you ever need to get picked up, just give me a call."

He helped her into the limo, placing his hand on the small of her back as he did so.

Arthur smiled. His chauffeur's honesty also made him too obvious. Luckily Gwen was far too oblivious to ever think anything of it.

Charles shut the door after her, turning to face his boss.

"Sir…" he started, looking troubled. "I think there is something you need to see."

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to him.

Arthur balked.

_Arthur Pendragon and his Naughty Nanny, Gwenefar! Is Camelot's most eligible bachelor back on the saddle?_

He recognized the photo; it was the one Morgana had taken when she had visited. Gwen was wearing her little mermaid nighty, her legs in between his own, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Where did you get this?"

"I was at the convenience store buying some ice cream for my sister," he said. "I saw it at the kiosk in front of the cashier."

"This is bad…"

"I wanted to buy all the copies from the rack, but I could only afford a couple."

"How on earth did they get this?"

"No clue, sir," said Charles, shrugging. "It's a local story in a no name magazine but, if the other magazines catch on, it'll be all over the news stands within the next few days."

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. What on earth was he going to tell Gwen? What was he going to tell his son?

"Charles," he said, his tone serious. "I'm going to give you my debit card. As soon as you drop us off, I want you to go to every convenience store within 30 miles of here and buy all of these tabloids. I will pay you handsomely—"

"No need," Charles said, raising a hand. "I care for Miss Leodegrance and she doesn't deserve this. I would have done it myself if I had the money."

Arthur smiled despite himself. "I'm glad she has you to look after her. I cannot thank you enough for your discretion."

"Are you going to tell Miss Leodegrance?"

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking.

"No," he said, stuffing the paper into his jeans pocket. "I'd rather she'd not know for now. It might blow over and I don't want to stress her out unnecessarily."

Charles opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he opened the door for Arthur, who gave him a quick nod in return.

"What was that all about?"

"Charles, was just negotiating his vacation time," he said without missing a beat. "Since it's all business, he didn't want to bore you."

"Ah," she said. "I really hope you gave him a long vacation. He's an amazing driver. I never feel unsafe when he's behind the wheel."

Arthur chuckled. "Well when you have only Merlin to compare him to…"

"That's true," Gwen said, giggling.

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

Arthur wondered if he had made the right decision. He wasn't even in a relationship with her (yet) and he was already hiding things from her. She wasn't a child…maybe…maybe

"Guinevere—"

"Arthur, I just wanted to tell you that I had a wonderful time today," Guinevere said, turning to him. "I know I was hesitant before…I felt bad because of what I had done to Lancelot. And while I still feel horrible… I really enjoy spending time with you."

She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"I've decided that I'm not going to spend this entire month hating myself for what I did. What's done is done. I might as well enjoy myself… let myself be happy. And you… you make me happy, Arthur."

She was leaning forward slightly, biting her lip with anticipation. He found his eyes traveling back to her full lips again, and it took all his will power to stop himself from kissing her again.

Arthur put his arm around her instead, pulling her close. Happy didn't quite cover how she made him feel. He couldn't find the words to describe the dizzying, confusing, but wonderful feeling in his chest as he held her. He didn't want it to stop.

The tabloid remained in his pocket, forgotten.

* * *

*Delurks*

Hey guys! It's been such a looong time! I sincerely apologize for the hiatus. I got so busy with school and work among other things that I didn't have as much time to update! But I am back and there will be updates! I can't give you definitive dates, but I will def update when I have free time

As always, please let me know what you think! I always love hearing from all of you.

-Miki-hime


	11. Queen of Hearts

Chapter 11

Queen of Hearts

"Gwen?"

Gwen mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, placing her pillow over her head.

She felt someone poking her side, over and over again. Finally, she sat up in bed and turned switched her lamp on.

"Mordred?"

The young boy was sitting at her side, looking conflicted.

"Your hair looks funny."

Gwen quickly patted her hair down, embarrassed. Did he really just wake her up in the middle of the night to insult her hair?

"What is it, Mordred?"

"I need your help."

Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"With what?"

He reached behind him and handed her a folded piece of paper.

As she unfolded it, she noticed Mordred was blushing. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite this flustered before.

"You want to try out for the school play?" she asked, smiling. "Mordred, that's fantastic! I didn't know you wanted to act."

"I'm not!" He looked down at his hands. "But Annie really wants to be cast in the play. And Annie's my friend so… I said I'd try out with her."

Gwen resisted the urge to smile.

"That's really sweet, Mordred."

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Witchcraft."

Gwen giggled. "I promise you, I can't cast spells. If I would I would Accio myself a milkshake."

"I think Accio is the best spell! Next to that luck charm…"

"Felix Felicis!"

He smiled. "I guess you're not that bad if you read Harry Potter."

She'd take "not bad" over "I hate you" any day.

"What exactly do you need my help with?"

"I've never tried out for a play before," he admitted. "And when I was spying on you, you told Mr. Handsome that you used to do school plays when you were younger."

She wanted to re-emphasize that spying was not okay, but she thought better of it.

"I was in a few school plays when I was your age! In fact, my dad taped all of them if you want to see."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

Gwen ruffled his hair a bit with her hand. He gave her an odd look.

"Okay, maybe we haven't reached that point yet," she mumbled. "But of course I would! I'd love to help you out in any way I can."

He narrowed his eyes. "What's in it for you?"

"Nothing! I just want to help you."

"I'm only asking you because daddy doesn't know how to act either and Auntie Morgana is away. "

"I understand that," Gwen said. "But I still want to help you."

He looked confused, but he continued. "I… I also need help with my lines. There's a couple of scenes they want me to read. And… and there's a song. I don't know how to sing…"

"Well you're in luck! I love to sing. And would be happy to teach you."

He looked up at her. His eyes were brighter than she remembered, piercing, honest. It was easy to forget just how young the boy was.

"Why…why don't you hate me, Guinevere?"

"I know we've had our differences in the past," she told him. "But I've never once hated you or thought you were a bad child. You just love your father and don't want to lose him. I can understand that. I lost my father and would do anything to get him back if I could."

He gasped. "What happened to him?"

Gwen got out of bed and picked the photo off of her dresser.

"He was in a bad accident when I was 15 or so." She handed him the photo. "This is my favorite picture of us, the oldest one that I have. And the only one I have with my mother."

"There's a boy in this one too!"

She smiled. "That's my older brother, Elyan. I think he's your age in this picture."

"You're so small! And cu—I mean… you're short."

"I must have been three or so." She leaned over and pointed. "That's our living room."

"I really like the colors!" He sounded really excited. "Red and gold are my favorite. And green."

"I love green too," she said.

They sat in silence for a moment, examining the picture further.

"I'm sorry," Mordred said suddenly. "I'm sorry you lost your father and for thinking you wanted to hurt me and my father. I… don't think you're a witch."

"Thank you, Mordred. That means a lot to me."

"And…and I guess… I guess I kind of like that you're my nanny." He played with the hem of his Transformers nightshirt. "You don't think I'm a monster."

He paused for a moment, deciding something. He moved his hand towards her, brought it back, and then tried again.

Finally, he leapt into her arms, securing his hold on her waist.

She was stunned at first, unsure of how to react. After a few moments, she returned the hug, placing her arms around his tiny shoulders.

"I think…I think I'll let you be my friend." The silk of her nightdress muffled his voice. "But you must promise me you won't take daddy away from me."

Gwen gulped. In truth, she would never try to take Arthur away from Mordred. But when the young boy found out about their relationship, she doubted he would see it that way.

"I promise."

She felt guilty, but she was telling the truth, wasn't she? And who knew when he'd open up to her like this again?

"You smell nice." He pressed his head into the curve of her side. "Like strawberries. I like strawberries. Daddy does too. I wonder if mommy smells like strawberries… I don't even know what she smells like but I hope she smells like you."

He was getting drowsy, she could tell. She knew she promised never to ask Mordred about his mother… but she couldn't help but be curious. How was it that his mother was still alive, yet he didn't know what she smelled like.

"Mordred, what does your mother look like?"

"Daddy never told me what she looks like. All I know is that she's really pretty and smart and she loves me. Daddy says that it's compilicated. They live apart and she travels the world and that's why she can't see me. But my mommy loves me. And I love her and I'd love to see her."

Gwen tried her hardest to hold back the tears. She didn't understand. And if she didn't understand, it was hard to imagine how Mordred could.

She had so many questions, but she remembered the fear in Arthur's eyes when she'd asked, the anger she'd elicited from a simple mention of her. She decided her respect for their privacy was stronger than her curiosity. One day, she hoped Arthur would open up to her about it.

"She sounds like a wonderful person," she found herself saying.

Her words elicited no response. She looked down at the boy. He was asleep, the ghost of a smile on his face as he clung to her.

Carefully, she lifted him into her arms and carried him back to his room. She pulled back the covers and placed him under them.

She gazed upon his sleeping face. He really was a cute kid. She would go as far as to say he was innocent. In some ways, he was.

_This is how mothers must feel_, she found herself thinking as she gingerly brushed the hair from his face.

She paused for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I'm glad we're friends, Mordred."

She stood up and tiptoed away, careful not to make a sound.

If she had veered right as she headed back to her room, she would have caught Arthur Pendragon, watching the scene in disbelief.

* * *

"Is that a kid, playing the rock?"

Gwen and Mordred were sitting in front of the big screen tv, watching her 5th grade rendition of "Sleeping Beauty".

"That's my brother, Elyan." Gwen giggled. "He wanted a part in the play so he could keep an eye on me. But…Elyan can't act."

"He looks really angry!"

"You'll see him get even angrier when Prince Phillip arrives."

Elyan had not been too happy when Gwen had gotten the part. Especially since Gwaine was cast as Prince Charming.

"You guys are up early. It's seven o'clock!"

Arthur strolled into the room, still wearing his red plaid pajama pants and white t-shirt.

"Shh, Daddy! We're getting to the best part! This is one of the scenes I have to do."

Arthur raised his hands in defense, but stayed quiet. He plopped down in between the two and focused his attention to the screen.

Ten-year-old Gwen was sitting under a "tree" wearing a grey dress with a black corset talking to several "animal friends."

"Well he's tall and handsome, and soooo romantic!" Said little Gwen grinning and clasping her hands together. "We walked together and talk together… and just before we say goodbye, he takes me into his arms—"

"—and then, I wake up," Older Gwen finished for her.

"Shh! Don't spoil it!" Mordred said, hitting her lightly on her knee.

"They say if you dream a thing more than once, it's bound to come true!" She leaned into her animal friends. "And I've seen him so many times!"

"You don't have to watch this, you know," she whispered to Arthur. "It's kind of embarrassing…"

He watched as she pranced across the screen, talking to her pretend prince. She looked just how he'd imagine little Gwen to look. Her smile was exactly the same.

"Why wouldn't I?" He smiled. "You were a really cute kid."

"You know Surge," said "Prince Phillip', "There's something strange about that voice. It's too beautiful to be real. Maybe it was some mysterious being? A wood sprite."

Arthur squinted. Was that… it couldn't be…

"Gwen," he said, cocking his head to the side. "Who is that playing the prince?"

"Gwaine," she said, shaking her head. "He was quite the character. I wasn't the least bit surprised that he got the part."

"Gwaine Leopold?"

"Yes…" she said slowly. "Why, do you know him?"

"I work with him," Arthur said, chuckling, "He's the CFO of Pendragon Inc."

"No way…" she turned to look at him, flabbergasted. "I mean… I always knew he was smart, but he's a bit of a troublemaker. Though I haven't seen him since he dropped out of my high school."

"Oh that hasn't changed," Arthur said, sighing. "A bit of a womanizer too. But I would be lying if I didn't say he was a valuable member of the team. He's brilliant."

"He was my first boyfriend," she said, smiling. "When he dropped out, he said he'd make it big. And he said he'd come back for me when he did. I guess he was right about one thing…"

Arthur gave her a skeptical look.

"Gwaine? Really? He doesn't really look like your type."

She shrugged. "Back then, I didn't have a type. But seeing how he's a CFO, I suppose he fits the profile of "my type", don't you think?"

"What is your type?"

"Apparently, ridiculously high-profile men," she said, giggling. "Whodathunkit."

"SHH!"

"Right," they said.

"_But don't you remember? We've met before,"_ Gwaine said. _"You said so before. Once upon a dream."_

He started singing and Arthur snorted.

"That sounds exactly like the kind of line Gwaine would use."

Gwen hit him lightly. "Give the kid a break! He's barely 11."

The two kids sang together, dancing around the stage together as the lights grew bright and the orchestra began to play. He could hear Gwen's voice, pure and clear as a bell, echoing across the room.

"Gwen…. you're amazing…" he whispered. "So talented…"

She blushed. "Ah… not really. I just really like to sing, that's all."

Mordred nodded. "She's really good, isn't she daddy?"

"Yes, Mor," he said. "She is."

"Oh stop it, seriously." She bit her lip. "You guys are just really nice."

"Oh no," Mordred said, turning back to the screen. "If you were really bad, I'd tell you. But you're not! Do you think you could help Annie with her part too?"

"Sure," she said, still blushing, "If it's alright with her parents."

"Parent," Mordred corrected. "Her father works with daddy. I think he'd say yes."

"Seriously, does everybody work for you?" Gwen asked.

"That's right," Arthur said. "Leon does have a child. Ninanne."

"That's right! But she likes to be called Annie!"

"Ah, I see," Arthur said. "I'll ask Leon. You're right, I'm sure he'll say yes."

"Yes!"

Mordred jumped up and gave his father a hug before running to the kitchen.

"Stay away from the Rocky Road!" Arthur called after him. "You can't have ice cream for breakfast!"

Gwen lifted the remote and pressed the pause button.

"Either I'm still asleep, or Mordred… was actually being nice to you for a change."

"I don't understand it either," Gwen said. "We had a bit of a heart to heart last night."

"I know. I was kind of eavesdropping on you."

The apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

"Kind of?"

Arthur looked sheepish. "I set my alarm for 3am every morning and check to make sure Mordred is in his room, asleep. I checked last night, but he wasn't there. I panicked."

Her face softened.

"You're a really great father, Arthur," she said, placing her hand over his. "I don't know if you're aware."

He sighed. "There's a lot of things I could do better."

"Like not have a secret relationship with your nanny?"

Arthur sighed. "There's that. I don't even know how I'm going to tell him. But I know I'm going to have to at some point. I can't stand lying to my son."

"Believe me, I don't like lying to him either," Gwen said. "He only now started liking me. I don't want all that to go away. I'm rather enjoying being friends with a seven-year-old, as sad as that sounds."

"For a long time, he was my only friend other than Merlin," Arthur confessed. "I used to spend a lot more time with him before my father retired and gave sole responsibility of the company to me."

"You can still make time," Gwen insisted. "You went on a date with me. Don't tell me you don't have time to spend a day with your son."

"I know." Arthur sighed. "I messed up last time. But when I watched you two last night, I realized there is this huge gap in his life. I haven't completely been there for him these last two years. I'm going to fix that. I think the company can deal with me not being there one day a week. Nimueh, Gwaine, and Percival can pick up the slack."

"You're taking Saturdays off?"

"Yes. I think the company is in a good place. Even if it wasn't… I have enough money to last me a long time. My son is much more important."

She nodded.

"Uh, about last night," she said, her voice hesitant, "You must have seen me ask Mordred about his mother again. I know you don't like me asking… I just… I can't help but ask. If I'm dating you, at least for the time being, Mordred is a part of my life too… and his mother…"

Arthur held up a hand. "You don't have to apologize. Just understand that… I'm not quite ready to talk about that now. I haven't spoken about her in many years."

"I understand. I don't expect you to," she said, squeezing his hand. "I just don't want you to think I'm going behind your back when it comes to your son. I want to be completely honest. Especially since you're still my boss."

"That's right. I _am_ still your boss. I keep forgetting that little tidbit."

"I mean, you still pay me once a week, so I don't think you're that fuzzy on the details," she added. "Though it feels as little weird, doesn't it? You being my boss."

"I know," he agreed. "But you have to admit, it is kind of…hot."

She rolled her eyes, blushing. "You're such a man. Don't tell me you have an employee fetish."

"Not until I met you."

She blushed harder.

"You know," she said, clearing her throat, "If this continues, past the month, I'm going to have to get another job… maybe even get my own apartment."

"I know." He looked slightly dejected. "You could, you know, apply for a job at my publishing agency."

"Nepotism," she said simply.

"I would recuse myself from any decisions made on your behalf. The higher-ups really liked your piece, the one you did when you took a tour of the agency."

"Really?"

"They thought it was very witty," Arthur said. "I told them they had no idea. That you are the epitome of wit."

"That doesn't sound like recusing yourself, Arthur." She sighed. "But thank you. It means a lot to know that I did well on something. I just… I can't stop working for you here just to work under you somewhere else."

"I'm sure you'll still be working under me no matter where you work," he said, wriggling his eyebrows.

"Do you always have this dirty of a mind at 7am?"

He chuckled. "You walked right into that one. I had to go for it."

She rolled her eyes. "But I'm serious. Eventually, I'm going to have to get another job."

"Alright. Just know that I'll write you the most glowing recommendation letter the world has ever seen."

"I'd be fine with that," she said, simply. "You've got to use your resources sometimes, right?"

"Daddy?"

Gwen and Arthur instantly sprang apart, turning to look at the young boy.

"We're out of rocky road."

He was holding an empty tub of ice cream in front of him, chocolate smeared all over his face.

Gwen laughed.

"Are we now?" Arthur said. "I wonder where it went. I could have sworn I bought a new tub only yesterday."

"Voldemort ate it."

"Is that so?" Arthur stood up and grabbed the tub, inspecting it. "Since when has Voldemort been a 7-year-old kid named Mordred?"

"I'm sorry daddy! I just really wanted some ice cream…"

Arthur knelt in front of his son. "Let's spend the day together, just you and me."

"Really, daddy?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, ruffling his hair. "We haven't seen much of each other lately. I really miss spending time with you. We can go anywhere you want."

"Wow! Is this what happens when I eat a tub of ice cream?"

"No," Arthur said. "I'm still taking away your crayons for that."

"Aww, shamrocks!"

"Can't pull the wool over my eyes, Mor. "

Mordred looked up at Gwen, then back at his father.

"Isn't she going to be lonely?"

Gwen was touched. Never in a million years did she think that Mordred would consider her feelings.

"I'll be fine," Gwen said. "You go have fun. I'll find something to do. It is my day off after all."

"I want you to come." He said simply. "Daddy doesn't know the first thing about having fun."

Arthur pressed his hand to his chest. "You wound me, son."

"If you're both fine with me coming, then sure. I'd be up for doing something fun."

"Great!" Mordred jumped up and down. "Because we're going to the beach!"

"Mordred, it's nearly November…"

He held up a hand. "When it's your turn to pick, daddy, you can go anywhere you want."

"You had better listen to your son," Gwen remarked between laughs. "He sounds like he means business."

Before Arthur could say anything, Mordred was off like a rocket.

"We're literally going to be the only people crazy enough to go to the beach this time of year," Arthur said, placing his head in his hands.

"It'll be alright," she said, squeezing his shoulder with one hand. "You see how happy this makes him? And it's in the high seventies today! You never know."

He stared at her for a second, thinking.

"Still think you're not part of the family?"

"I'm his friend," she said, simply. "I'm glad for that. I was beginning to think he'd always think ill of me. I was grateful we'd gotten past the point of constant bodily harm."

"I told you," Arthur said, encircling his arms around her waist, "You are impossible to dislike. I honestly can't think of a single thing I dislike about you."

"You clearly haven't known me that long, then." She grinned. "I'm really annoying and self-righteous. Extremely naïve. Crazily optimistic. Just ask your friend Gwaine and he'll tell you all about it."

He pulled her closer and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck returning the kiss in full.

"Gwaine is an idiot for ever letting you go." He nuzzled her neck with his nose. "Even a fifteen-year-old couldn't be that stupid."

"You even told my yourself that you went for the obvious." Her voice was breathy, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. "I was a geeky drama kid with hipster glasses. You do the math."

He walked her into the couch, her body making a soft thud as she landed on the cushion. He kissed her again, trailing his hands up her sides.

This time she did moan.

"Uhh…_Arthur_," she said, in between kisses, "We…shouldn't be doing…_ah_… this _here._"

He stopped, hovering over her for a second.

"Er…right," he said, rolling off of her.

"Not to say, that I wasn't… enjoying myself," she added, sheepishly. "I just think it's a little reckless, what with your son being upstairs and all."

"I know. I'm stupid." He ran a hand through his hair. "I couldn't help it. I haven't had a chance to kiss you these last few days."

"It's difficult with Mordred around," she said, pointing upwards. "Which is why we need to be a bit more… creative."

"His bed time _is_ at nine," he mused. "I've just been coming home late these last few days. But this week should be better."

"And we're taking it slow, remember," she reminded him.

Arthur chuckled. "We both seem to be horrible at that."

"I mean, it'll happen when it happens, but I don't want to rush into that." She glanced up at him. "Like you said, I want to take my time with you."

She leaned in and kissed him softly this time.

"You're not making this easy."

She smiled.

He jumped up. "I'm going to go get my stuff ready. You should too."

"Good idea!" she said, walking ahead.

Arthur watched the sway of her hips as she walked in front of him, still in her nightgown. He gulped.

He was going to have to add "cold shower" to his to-do-list.

* * *

"Merlin, you might want to lift your collar a bit."

Merlin gave his mentor a confused look. It wasn't like Gaius to give fashion advice. In fact, the old man didn't have the right to; Merlin had spent nearly ten minutes convincing him that he could not, in fact, pull off a fedora.

Gaius sighed. "I was under the impression that this was a hospital, not a high school."

Merlin's expression didn't change.

"Oh for heavens sake!" Gaius reached over and adjusted his protégé's shirt. "You've got a _love bite_."

Merlin blushed, refusing to look at him.

"I gather you are still having relations with your patient?"

"Relations? Seriously?" He cringed. "But yes, we are in a relationship. A serious one at that."

Gaius looked at Merlin for a long moment before speaking. "You know I think of you as my own son, Merlin. I really care about you and want to see you succeed."

"I have succeeded," Merlin said, simply. "I went to one of the best medical schools in the country. I was chief resident and everyone's favorite attending. What more could you want for me?"

"I want you to be respected." Gaius looked around the cafeteria. "Don't think there haven't been rumors about you and the girl—"

"Her _name_," Merlin said, his eyes suddenly steely, "is Freya. And I think you'll find that I don't care what people think about me in this place. I've already made enough enemies, what with the whispers of nepotism on your part. "

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought, Merlin," Gaius said, his voice slightly raised. "As a doctor, you're going to need the respect of your staff. You'll struggle without it."

"Gauis," Merlin said slowly, "I understand that you're trying to help, but you can't stop me from seeing her. I love her. She means everything to me and I refuse to let her go."

"You're going to have to."

Merlin closed his eyes, placing his face in his palms.

"Don't you think I know that? But as long as I have a choice, I'm not letting her go. We love each other. You don't just leave the people you love to further your own ambition. If my respect dies with Freya, then so be it. I wouldn't respect myself if I left her."

"Merlin, listen—"

"No, you listen," he said, standing up. "You've been the best father anyone could ever ask for, Gaius, and I thank you for helping me refocus after Morgana… broke my heart. But you can't always protect me. And most importantly, you cannot tell me how to live my life."

"No, I can't," Gaius agreed, "But I can definitely suspend you from working for the time being."

"You… Gaius… you can't do that."

Gaius stood up to his full height. "I have no problem with the girl, Merlin. But I cannot have you compromising the professionalism of this hospital—"

"You can't do that! I have been an exceptional doctor. And Freya isn't even my patient! You already made sure of that!"

"I'm doing this for your own good. Either you stop seeing this girl, or I suspend you until she is no longer a patient at this hospital."

"Gaius, please," Merlin pleaded. "Don't do this—"

"CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE! Floor 4, room 423!"

"That's Freya's room!"

"Merlin, wait!"

Merlin didn't listen. He ran as fast as he could, out of the cafeteria, and up the stairs. He was not in peak physical condition by any means, but adrenaline was his friend.

As much as he had prepared himself for this moment, he knew he wasn't ready for it. He couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever.

"Freya, please hold on!"

He reached the fourth floor and bolted through the halls, nearly knocking over some of the nurse staff on his way.

When he reached her room, he burst through the door. There were already a few doctors there, surrounding her. He ran to her, pushing past them.

He heard the deafening sound of the heart monitor flatlining.

"Why isn't anyone doing anything?"

"Dr. Emrys, she's gone…"

"No, no she's not." He grabbed the heart paddles. "Charge to 200!"

"Dr. Emrys—"

"Charge the fucking paddles to 200, Galehut!"

"Right, sir."

He pressed the paddles to her open chest and her entire body arched, before flopping down, lifeless.

"Charge to 300!"

He pressed the paddles to her chest again. No change.

"360!"

No change.

"Charge again!"

"Dr. Emrys, I think we should—"

"CHARGE AGAIN!"

There were tears streaming down his face now. He couldn't control them. He had to save her. He had to. There was no way their story was ending this way.

"Don't you dare leave me," he whispered before pressing the paddles to her chest again.

He heard the tell tale signs of sinus rhythm from the heart monitor.

"Good job, sir," said Galehut, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought…"

"Me too," Merlin said, gripping the hospital bed.

"You're supposed to call it after the first 360."

"Is that right, Pellinore?" Merlin stood up to his whole height. "Would you rather I had let Miss Du Lac die? You're clearly fresh out of med school. Sometimes you have to bend the rules a little and use your discretion."

"Well, if you ask me," The blond resident said, smirking smirked, " I don't think we should take advice from a doctor who screws his patients instead of treating them."

Merlin lifted his fist and tried to strike Pellinore, but a hand caught his fist before he could do so.

Lance stood before him, his face stony. "Freya wouldn't want you to get fired on her account," he told Merlin, lowering his fist to the ground.

He turned towards the crowed, glaring at Pellinore.

"In my experience, posturing does not make you a better doctor. You ought to show Dr. Emrys a little more respect. He can make your life hell if he really wanted to," said Lancelot.

Pellinore blanched. "Ah. Sorry Dr. Emrys… I…"

"Just get out," Merlin hissed.

The young resident didn't have to be told twice. The rest of the medical staff followed suit, some furtively looking back at the pair of men.

"Thank you, Lance," Merlin said. "I honestly don't know what got into me."

"You saved my sister's life." He placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I can never fully show my appreciation for that. Except in my own small way."

"She's not out of the woods yet," Merlin said, solemnly. " For her to go under cardiac arrest… my guess is that she doesn't have that much longer."

"How much longer?"

Merlin sighed. "It's hard to tell. Anywhere from a week to two months."

Lance ran his hand through his hair. "I can't lose my sister, Merlin. There's no way I'm just going to stand by and let her die."

"What're you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me," Lance said. "Stay with her. I'll be back."

Merlin nodded and didn't ask anything further. He wondered what Lance could possibly be planning. There was nothing he could do for Freya at this point. Nothing short of performing a miracle.

"Merlin."

"Gaius," Merlin said, turning to address the older man.

"What you did just now—"

"I understand what you mean now, Gaius," Merlin said. "My feelings for Freya are compromising my composure. You could at least do me the courtesy of holding the I told you so until I've recovered from that."

"I was going to say you were brave." Gaius walked over and embraced him. "You saved her life, even though the situation must have been paralyzing for you. I don't think I would have been able to do that."

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin said, pulling away from him. "But I think you're right. I'm… I'm going to take some time off, so I can spend more time with Freya."

Gaius nodded. "I think that would be wise, Merlin."

"I'm also going to ask Morgana if I can rent out her apartment while she's away. It's much closer to the hospital and I can get here in an emergency."

"Merlin—"

"Gaius, she's not going to be living there," Merlin reassured him. "And even if she was, it wouldn't be a problem. We've both moved on."

"Merlin, I've known you since you were a baby," Gaius said. "I'm certain you're not over it. I have no doubt that you love Freya. I can see it all over your face. But I still suggest that you stay away from Morgana. I know a part of you still loves her. I don't want to have to pick up the pieces again."

"Morgana is a dear friend, Gaius," Merlin said. "I understand that you're trying to protect me, but I know myself. Morgana and I… we will never be what we were. Not only that…I love Freya and I would never betray her."

"Just be careful Merlin," Gaius said, giving up. "That's all I ask of you."

"I will, Gaius," he promised.

Gaius nodded and glanced at the bed behind them. "I think she's waking up. I'll take my leave."

Merlin nearly sprinted towards her, collapsing in the chair next to the bed.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around the room, slightly panicked.

"What happened?"

She placed her hand over her open hospital gown and then looked at Merlin.

"I didn't… pass out… while we were…"

Merlin chuckled. "No, that was nearly two hours ago, remember? I was helping you readjust you hospital gown—"

"—and then we somehow ended up in the shower," she finished, grinning. " I never thought I would find a use for those hand bars."

"You didn't need to readjust your hospital gown, you know," Merlin admitted. "I kind of made that up."

"I know you did," Freya said, giggling. "You've used that trick like five times, Merlin."

"Hey, it works, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so," she agreed.

"You might want to cover yourself up lest something happen again—"

"Merlin… what happened to me?"

Merlin sighed. He hadn't wanted to tell her this just yet. He wasn't sure he'd come to terms with it himself.

He entwined his fingers with hers. "Your heart stopped. For a full minute. I brought you back."

"Oh, Merlin," she said, grasping his hand. "That must have been really hard for you."

"Understatement of the year," he said. "It felt like... my soul was being ripped out of my body. I didn't… I didn't know if you were coming back to me."

"But I did." She gave him a soft smile. "You brought me back."

"But I can't do that forever, Freya," he said, wiping away a stray tear from his eye. "I won't always be able to bring you back. One day, I'm going to lose you forever. And… I'm not entirely ready for that."

"No one can ever be ready for that," she told him. "Merlin, I know I don't have much time. I can feel it. Even though I want to live, I know it can't be. All I want now, is to spend the rest of my days with the people I love."

She pulled him close and kissed him, tasting the salt of his tears on his lips.

His arm snaked around her waist as he climbed over the railing of the hospital bed and positioned himself on top of her.

"Merlin," she said, between kisses, "You're still on call, remember?"

"I've taken leave." He kissed her again before rolling off to her side, his hands still encircling her waist. "I shouldn't be working when I feel like this. I should be spending my time with you."

She moved closer to him, placing one arm over his waist and the other under her pillow.

"I love you," she said. "God, I love you so much. I hate that I'm hurting you like this. You and Lance, who still thinks he can save me."

"Shh." He said, smoothing down her hair. "Let's not think about that right now. Right now, all I want to think about is you lying next to me."

She snuggled up to him, smiling.

"And that you look unbelievably hot right now," he added.

"Liar."

"You've got that sexy bed head look about you," he continued. "Though, I do think your hospital gown needs readjusting."

She smiled, closing her eyes.

"Nice try."

* * *

"We're here, young master."

"Woohoo!"

Charles pulled in around the corner of the beach as Mordred pressed his hands excitedly against the glass of the limo.

"Thank you, Charlie." Gwen smiled at him from the backseat. "You sure you don't want to join us?"

"No thank you, Miss Leodegrance. I've got a couple of errands to run. I hope you enjoy your day."

"Thank you, Charlie." She eyed Mordred as he started opening the car door. "We had better go before Mordred explodes from excitement."

As she hopped out of the car, the young boy ran in front of her, shovel and bucket in hand. Gwen turned to look at Arthur.

"So I take it he's never been to the beach before?"

Arthur shook his head, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind him.

"I was always afraid that I would take my eyes off of him for one second and he'd drown or something. As a single father, I wasn't willing to take that chance."

"I can't even imagine what that feels like," she said, her eyes fixed on the young boy jumping around in the distance. "I've always been in awe of single parents, like my father. It sounds really difficult."

"It is," Arthur agreed. "But your child becomes your motivation. You know you can't fail, and sometimes you get paralyzed with fear, but eventually you find the strength to do it."

They finally caught up to Mordred, who had since stripped down to his swimming trunks. He was sitting in the sand, and seemed to be using his pail to build a sand castle. Gwen and Arthur dropped their beach bags on the floor next to him.

"Daddy, this is the beach," Mordred said, without even looking up at his father. "You've got to wear your swimming suit or you'll embarrass me."

Arthur sighed.

"If there happens to be a camera on this beach—"

"Daddy, you have to!" Mordred turned towards him. "I want you to have fun. You can't have fun in your work clothes."

"If it makes you feel any better," Gwen added, "I haven't been the beach in over seven years. Plus, I'm not exactly the most in shape person. Last night I finished a bag of mini snickers."

Arthur chuckled. "Thanks, Guinevere. That actually does make me feel better."

He hooked his fingers under the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it off his head. Then, he removed his slacks, revealing crimson swim trunks with little golden dragons.

It took all of Gwen's courage not to let her jaw drop. She had expected that Arthur had a nice body. However, whatever image she had in her mind paled in comparison to the real thing. His muscles were long, lean and defined and, at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers down each and every one. It should have been criminal to have such a beautiful body.

"That settles it." She crossed her arms over her stomach self-consciously. "My clothes are definitely staying on."

"I'm sure you look fine, Gwen."

_That's the problem_, she thought. _I may look fine, but you look like a Greek sculpture._

Sighing, she slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and lifted it off her head.

Underneath she wore a bright yellow and white polka-dotted bikini that appeared to be made for her body. And what a body it was. He didn't understand how she could hide _that_ so well under her clothes.

"Wow," Arthur whispered.

Gwen blushed and reached into her bag to retrieve her towel and umbrella.

"I don't understand you or Alvarr," she said, shaking her head. "I'm nothing special."

Her words shook him out of his stupor. "Alvarr? What does he have to do with this?"

She was determined not to meet his eyes.

"He was hiding in closet one day when I was changing," Gwen said. "He told me I had a 'hot little body' under my clothes. I didn't invite him into my closet. In fact, I don't even remember why he was in there."

She could see the cogs turning in Arthur's head and she mentally slapped herself for even bringing up Alvarr. Letting that man into Arthur's house was definitely not one of her finest moments.

"I can't believe I trusted him," she found herself saying. "In retrospect, it was incredibly stupid of me. I just thought… since he was Morgana's boyfriend."

"Don't worry, Gwen," Arthur said, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm not angry about that in the slightest. How could I be after what he did to you?"

"That's the thing that gets me," she said. "When he tried to… I got the impression that he was doing it to hurt you. Like he didn't want to do it. I even think… he wouldn't have gone through with the entire thing. The point was for you to see it."

The pieces were beginning to fall in place for Arthur. Alvarr suddenly coming back into Morgana's life, sneaking around in Gwen's closet… he wanted dirt on him…

"Gwen," he asked, suddenly, "Where did you put that picture? You know…. The one Morgana took of us that one morning."

She blushed. "I… er… I stuffed it into my nightgown."

Bingo.

"Why?"

She looked worried. For a moment, he was tempted to tell her everything. But he realized he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. What if she didn't want anything to do with him?

"No reason," he said. "I was just wondering."

She gave him a strange look before sitting down on her towel.

"See, Daddy?" Mordred pointed at the sun. "The sun is out! There are lots of people here. I picked the best day to go to the beach."

"You sure did, Mordred. I'll never doubt your judgment again."

Something came flying at his chest and he caught it before it hit him. He could hear Gwen giggling from her towel.

"It's sunscreen," she said. "You guys should put some on."

Arthur nodded and walked over to his son, who was busy building his masterpiece.

"Daddy!" Mordred squeaked as Arthur rubbed the sunscreen over his back, arms, and belly. "That's cold!"

"It's to protect you from the sun, Mor," Arthur explained. "You don't want to turn to barbeque out here, do you?"

"But I like, barbeque…"

"Here." Arthur handed the sunscreen to his son. "You can put some on me too. Payback."

Gwen couldn't help but smile as she watched the two, father and son. It made her feel out-of-place, that she was somehow intruding on these precious moments. At the same time, it made her think of a happier time in her life, when her father and brother were her entire world.

"Done!"

"Thank you, Mordred."

Arthur walked over to Gwen, who gave him a confused look.

"Sit up," he told her. "It's your turn."

Gwen gulpled, but did what she was told.

"Ah," she said, turning her back to him, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Without warning, she felt the cold lotion being squeezed onto her back, and his soft hands rubbing into her skin. He moved his hands slowly over her back, touching every surface. Her breath hitched in her throat as his hands circled around to the bottom string of her bikini top, lightly brushing the undersides of her breasts. She was certain that was no accident.

His hands returned to her mid back, and his fingers massaged the lotion into her skin, deeper and deeper. Her back arched as his hands slowly descended down the curve of her spine to the very base of her back.

"Thank you."

Her voice sounded higher than she intended. But how could it not? He'd turned a simple act of putting sunscreen on into something incredibly sensual.

"My pleasure," he said, his own voice huskier than usual.

"Gwen," Mordred called, "I need more sea shells for my castle! Daddy, come help me build it!"

"The little prince beckons," Arthur said, holding out a hand for her.

Gwen took his hand and he pulled her up. His hand remained on her arm for a few moments and she looked up at him, her eyes questioning.

He pulled her a little closer, so that her upper body lightly brushed his chest. He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, while brushing his thumb back and forth across her wrist. Her eyelids fluttered, reflecting her surprise.

"What's this for?"

"I…just felt like doing it," he said.

She smiled, leaned forward, and returned the favor, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"We'd better get going," she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. "Mordred doesn't like to be kept waiting.

"Right," he said, releasing her.

She stood there for a moment, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She wasn't used to this. It felt… nice.

The sound of her cell phone pulled her out of her reverie. She leaned over and rifled through her bag for a moment before her fingers grasped the hard plastic.

LANCE calling…

She panicked for a moment, almost dropping her phone. Lance? Why on Earth was he calling her now of all times?

She glanced over at Arthur, who was helping Mordred carve out the towers of his castle. His son was in awe, placing his little hands on his father's thighs as he watched.

"Yes?" she said, still looking at them.

"It's so good to hear your voice, Gwen."

"It's… it's good to hear from you too, Lance," she said hesitantly. "But I don't understand… I never thought… you'd call me again for a long time…after what I did to you."

"Gwen," he said, "I…need to see you."

"Lance, what's wrong? You sound horrible…"

"I just… really need to see you. Could you come to New Hope hospital later today? Room 423?"

"Lance, why—"

"Please?"

He sounded so incredibly broken. It was jarring for her. She was so used to Lancelot's calm, reassuring voice. It pained her to hear him sounding… almost desperate.

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll come later today. I just wish you would tell me what's going on—"

He hung up.

She placed her phone back in her purse, feeling completely and utterly confused. It didn't make any sense. Why would Lancelot call her now? What did he need her help for?

"Gwen! Seashells!"

She started walking towards the shoreline, her mind working on overdrive. She knew she couldn't refuse Lancelot. But she couldn't help but feel anxious. She was not ready to face him again, after what she'd done. Not only that, she was sure when she saw him again, all of her feelings would come rushing back. She didn't want that. Not now. Not when she was only beginning to understand how she felt for Arthur. That was scary enough for her to deal with.

"I'm on it Mordred!"

Right now, she wouldn't worry about it. She'd take things one step at a time.

* * *

Merlin laid in bed, Freya pressed against his chest, his arms encircling her waist. They had just given her some meds and she was completely knocked out.

Despite all his pleading, the doctors would not let him stay with her 24/7. He knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. Instead they would allow him to stay with her for 14 hours, the rest of the time he would be forced to go home, and hope that her status did not change drastically while he was away.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. His fingers glided over the buttons, typing in the number he had long since committed to memory.

"Merlin?"

"Hi Morgana. Did I wake you?"

"Wake me?" She giggled. "Merlin, it's nearly 1pm. You didn't wake me."

"Don't act so surprised. You used to sleep in until 2pm some days—"

"Because Uther wanted me to go to piano lessons," she finished for him. "But he always felt horrible about waking me up. I knew exactly how to play him."

_You knew exactly how to play everyone_, Merlin thought.

"Morgana," he said after a long pause. "I was wondering… could I stay in your apartment for a little while? Just for the next few weeks or so."

"Sure," she said slowly. "May I ask why?"

Merlin let out a huge breath, pulling Freya even closer.

"Morgana…she's…Freya doesn't have much time left," Merlin said, his voice cracking a bit. "Your apartment is closer to the hospital than Gaius's. I want to be near her in case of an emergency."

"Oh, Merlin," she said softly. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Of course you can stay in my apartment. If you need anything at all, just let me know."

"I need her to live." He sighed. "God, Morgana, I can't imagine a life without her. She's my entire world."

Though Morgana knew this was how he felt, hearing it from his lips did not make it any less painful. But she wasn't allowed to feel this way. She had given away her right years ago.

"Do you remember what you told me, the night my father died?"

"No," Merlin admitted.

"You told me that it was going to hurt and that I would always feel that pain," she told him, "But that one day, I'd be able to wake up in the morning and simply remember my father rather than mourn him. You told me I was strong and that you were certain that I would pull through—"

"_How do you know that?" Morgana said, tears in her eyes. "I can't feel anything but pain right now. I'm completely numb."_

"_Because I have faith in you." He pulled her close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as she cried into his chest. "And because you don't have to do this alone. I will always be here when you need me. You just have to promise me you'll let me be there for you."_

"_I promise."_

"I'm glad we've been able to mend our friendship over the years," Morgana said, after recounting the moment. "And my biggest regret, is that I didn't listen to you back then. I didn't let you be there for me. If I had, things would have most certainly turned out differently."

"Morgana—"

"I want to be there for you," she said, cutting him off. "If you'll let me. I know you can't stay in the hospital all hours of the day. They're going to force you to come home, and you shouldn't be alone. I want to be there for you, if you need to talk, or you just need company."

"I don't want you to pity me."

"I don't pity you," she said. "However, regardless of how strong you are, Merlin, you're going to need support. Just say the words and I will fly back from Milan. I have a few months of vacation time that I haven't used."

Merlin thought about her proposal for a moment. A million red flags were popping up in his head. He had never intended to share the apartment with her, given their history. But then, she had pinpointed his greatest fear. He imagined himself sitting in silence in her apartment, lost in his own dark thoughts.

"I need you."

He hadn't expected to use those words, but he couldn't deny the truth of them. He didn't just need a friend. He couldn't lean on Arthur, not now, not when the Pendragon heir was finally happy. He needed Morgana, for her complete understanding, her soothing voice, her calming embrace.

It took her a second to collect herself. She never thought she'd hear him say those words to her ever again. He'd used them before but, back then, he'd been speaking of another need entirely. She appreciated it more now, after everything they'd been through.

"Alright."

"Morgana, we can't…I won't…"

"I understand," she said. "That's not why I'm doing this, Merlin. "

"Why are you doing this?"

_Because I still love you._

"Because no one should have to go through this alone," she said.

"Thank you, Morgana. I really appreciate this." He paused, not knowing what else to say. "I should probably go. Let me know when your flight is coming in."

"Alright, Merlin," she said. "Stay strong. For Freya."

"I will."

He shut off his phone, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.

Morgana sighed, sinking lower into her white padded couch. She truly was a masochist of the highest degree. A psychiatrist's wet dream.

"Morgana, who was that?"

Leon walked into the living room, a towel tied around his waist.

"Merlin," she said.

"Is he okay?"

"He's having a rough go of it lately, but I'm sure he'll be okay."

He didn't question her further, and she appreciated it. He always seemed to know when to stop probing.

"Come on," he said, grasping her hands and lifting her off the couch. "Let's get you out of this hotel. I have the feeling you could use some fresh air. Maybe some gelato?"

"Mmmm," she said, leaning over to kiss him softly. "Sounds good."

"Just let me get dressed."

She hooked her finger under his towel, leading him slowly to the couch.

"The gelato will still be there in a few hours."

"Hours?" Leon squeaked.

Morgana simply pulled him down and kissed him again, simultaneously undoing his towel.

Leon was good to her and he truly loved her. He was more than she could have ever dreamed for herself.

And she just knew she was destined to screw it up.

* * *

"Just look at this masterpiece!" Arthur exclaimed, gesturing towards the finished sand castle.

It had taken them just under an hour and a half to finish. But it had totally been worth it.

"I have to admit, it's pretty impressive," Gwen said. "I especially like the sea shells as spires. Nice touch."

"You just like them because you picked them," Mordred said.

"Guilty," Gwen said, smiling. "But you have to admit, I picked the prettiest ones I could find. I took my job very seriously."

"As did I," Arthur admitted. " It took me ages to get the architecture of the towers just right."

"And I filled the moat!" Mordred said proudly. "And watched Daddy to make sure he did his job right."

"And how did I do, Mor?"

"You're the best castle builder in all of Camelot!" He hugged his father. "And Gwen, you were okay, I guess. But your seashells are too girly."

Gwen sighed.

"Everyone's a critic," she said.

"Alright, now for the best part," said Merlin standing up and backing away from the castle. "Ready?"

"Please don't tell me he's going to…"

"Geronimoooo!"

Mordred leaped headfirst into the castle and Gwen watched with horror as it crumbled into several small pieces of hardened wet sand.

"I'm glad I got pictures," Gwen said, surveying the damage woefully.

She smiled as she looked through her phone. The pictures had turned out great. In her favorite picture, Mordred sat on both her and Arthur's shoulders a huge grin on his face. It warmed her heart. She'd forgotten what it felt like to be part of a family.

Suddenly, the picture disappeared and was replaced by a text alert message.

Lancelot again.

_Please come now. Please. _

Mordred got up without missing a beat. "Time to go in the water!"

"Ah, ah, ah," Arthur said, grasping his son's shoulder before he ran off. "There's no way I'm going to let you go out there by yourself."

Mordred sighed. "Fine, daddy. But you've got to hurry!"

Arthur turned towards Gwen. "You coming?"

"I'm sorry Arthur," she said, quickly reaching over to collect her things. "I have to go. It's Lancelot… I think something's wrong. I just…"

Arthur held up a hand, silencing her.

"It's okay, really," he said, smiling. "Don't worry about it. Just let me know if you need anything. I'll call Charles to come and pick you up.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're leaving?"

Gwen knelt to Mordred's level. "Yep. I'll be back later. If I get back early enough, we can start working on your singing."

"Yes!" He jumped up and pumped a fist in the air in excitement. "Thank you!"

He rushed over and ruffled her hair. Gwen laughed, returning the favor. Perhaps they _had _reached that point in their relationship.

Arthur looked back and forth between the two of them.

"What's that about?" he asked.

"Inside joke," she said, winking at his son.

"Alright," Arthur said, sounding confused. "We'll be fine here. Just… promise me you'll come back to us… to me."

She nodded. "I promise."

He watched her as she turned her back and continued packing. At the moment, he wanted to tell her not to go, to stay with them. Even though he had stolen her away from Lancelot, he still didn't like the guy one bit. He didn't trust him with Gwen and he would do anything not to see her get hurt.

But, regardless, he trusted _her._ And regardless of how much it hurt him, he knew he was going to have to let her go.

* * *

Lancelot placed his head in his hands. He was used to being on stage in front of thousands of people. Why on earth did he feel nervous talking to one woman?

Because he was about to shatter her entire world with just a few words.

"Lance, can you come in here?"

Freya was calling him from her room. The sound of her voice made his heart swell. He had almost lost her today. Never before had he seen her arrive so close to death's doorstep. It motivated him to do what he thought it would take months to do.

"Yes, Frey," he said, walking towards her.

"Lance," Merlin said, nodding. He was sitting on the bed, working on a crossword puzzle.

"Merlin," Freya said, looking at him. "I've figured out what I want for dinner. Could you drive by the Thai Diner and get some Drunken Noodle."

"I thought we were eating dinner later—"

She gave him a stern look that promptly shut him up.

"Right, er," he said looking back and forth between the siblings, "I'll get right on that."

He hopped off the bed, stumbling as he rushed out of the room and turned the corner.

"Lance," she said, once she was sure he was out of earshot. "What are you doing?"

He gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

Freya turned around in bed and pulled a black folder from under her pillow.

"Where did you get that—"

"It doesn't matter where I got it," she said calmly. "I'm just wondering… how you got a hold of it. Is everything in this folder true?"

"What does it matter if it's true?"

Freya made a noise of disbelief. "Lance, what happened to you? This doesn't sound like you at all."

"Freya, I don't think you understand," Lance said. "I'd be willing to do anything to save you, even if it means losing my honor in the process."

"Who is making you do this?"

"It doesn't matter who," he said, "If I do it, you'll get on the clinical trial. I could buy you another few years, maybe even more!"

"I am dating the adopted son of the chief of medicine," she said, laughing wryly. "Merlin knows nothing about trial, I asked him. Gaius too. It's not real!"

"You don't know that—"

"Lance, just listen to me!"

The tone of his sister's voice surprised him. She had always been assertive, but he had never known her to shout at him. She had always been able to make her point at a normal volume.

"I did what you asked. I haven't given up," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I think there is a difference between wanting to live and being delusional. There IS no clinical trial, Lance. Someone is messing with your head to get to Gwen. You NEED to STOP this."

"You can't know that for certain," he said. "If there is a little chance that I can save you, I'm going to take that chance."

"The doctors say I have a month at absolute best," she said. "Think about it. The clinical trial, if it existed, would take months! I'm already at stage four. There's nothing they can do. You need to accept that."

"Give me the folder, Freya," Lance said.

"If you give her that folder," she said, glaring at him, "Don't come into this hospital to visit me. I don't want to see your face."

"You'll hate me, but at least you'll be alive," he said walking over and grabbing the folder from her.

"And this Gwen woman," Freya said, sitting up, "Do you really think she's going to come back to you after you do this? Just let her be happy, Lance. Let her be happy with Arthur. Because, if you're willing to do _this _to her, then you don't deserve her anyway."

Lance felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He secured the folder under the crook of his arm.

"Goodbye, Lance," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I really hope it's all worth it."

He turned away from her. Looking at her tears was too hard for him. Since their parents died, he made a promise to never make her cry again. Today was the first time in nearly a decade that he had broken his rule.

As he left the room, he collided into a soft body. He reached forward and prevented the person from colliding with the ground. His folder landed on the ground with a resounding thud.

"Gwen," he whispered.

It was strange, but in the last few weeks, he'd forgotten the effect she had on him. Her eyes were much wider and brighter than he remembered. Her lips were of a softer pink than they had been in his dreams. He could feel his heart speed up in his chest as his eyes trailed her, from the crown of her head to the soft curves of her sides.

"I rushed over here as fast as I could," she said, putting her bag down next to her feet. "You honestly terrified me. What's going on with you?"

"Gwen," he said, releasing her arm, "I've been a mess these last few days. The doctors told me my sister will most certainly die within the month. I wasn't expecting her time to run out so soon."

"Oh, Lance," she said, "I'm so, so, sorry."

Her eyes filled with genuine concern. It always baffled him how she could be so honest, so completely _real_.

She reached over and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He stood rigid for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her and resting his head atop hers.

She was warm and soft and, in her arms, he instantly found comfort. He could feel the walls he'd worked so hard to build crumble in an instant. He collapsed against her.

"She's my little sister," he said, his voice cracking. "I've spent my entire life protecting her. I can't lose her. Not now. Oh god…"

"Shh, it's okay," she said, reaching up to stroke his hair with her hand. "You've done well. And I know it's hard, but… you have the benefit of knowing in advance. You can spend this last month with your sister and appreciate every moment that you have with her."

He slid to the floor, pressing his face against the soft planes of her stomach, his arms still planted firmly around her waist. He was crying silently, the wet tears seeping through her beach dress.

"This," Gwen added, kneeling down to face him, "is not your fault. Horrible things happen all the time and sometimes there's nothing you can do about it. I've lost my entire family. And not a day goes by where I don't think of them. It would be so easy to lose myself in despair, to blame my self for their deaths and disappearances. But that would be pointless. The best thing I can do for them… is live the best life I can. And never forget them."

She had singlehandedly pinpointed the cause of his inner turmoil. He _did_ feel as though he failed his sister, that he should be the one dying in hospital bed, not her. At the end of the day, she was his little sister and, despite all his best efforts, he had not been able to save her.

_It's not my fault, _he repeated in his head. _I… I can't save her…_

The thought was devastating… but also incredibly revealing.

Gwen lifted his chin with her hand and looked him in the eye. As he looked at her, he wondered how he had been able to let her go. She was beautiful, loyal, and caring. Willing to be there for him and have faith in him, even if it made her feel uncomfortable.

He'd already forgiven her for kissing Arthur Pendragon. He'd pushed Arthur in her direction, pushed him to make his confession. The relationship he had with her was an intricate web of lies.

The only truthful aspect, he realized as he looked into her eyes, was his love for her.

"You're going to get through this," she said, grasping his hands in hers. "I know you can. But the most important thing for you to do right now, is be there for your sister. She needs all your love and support."

He loved her.

"Just let me know if you need anything." She gripped his hand tighter. "I'm only a phone call away."

He stared up at her, unable to form words.

Instead, he simply placed his hands on the sides of her face, leaned in, and kissed her softly.

But it wasn't like before. She pulled back almost immediately, pressing her fingers to her lips in surprise.

"Lance…"

"I apologize," he said, placing his head in his hands. "I had forgotten about our arrangement. I'm just a little dazed from today's events."

"I completely understand," she said, rubbing his back in a circular motion. "How about we get some fresh air? My treat?"

Lancelot nodded. It was all he could do right now. His mind was reeling with both disappointment and confusion.

She reached over and picked up the folder from the ground.

"I think you dropped this," she said, handing it to him.

He stared at the folder in her hands, wrought with indecision for a moment. It was this folder that had brought them together in the first place. This folder that he had believed was the key to saving his sister's life. It had the potential to change everything.

"Thank you," he said, taking the folder from her.

Freya gave him a warm smile from the hospital room and he instantly knew he was making the right decision. No matter how determined he had been, he now realized he wasn't willing to lose his sister on a gamble.

"What are you feeling like?" Gwen asked, "Mexican or Indian?"

He wasn't willing to lose _her_ just yet either. Not yet.

"Indian," he answered, smiling for the first time that day. "Definitely Indian."

Looong chapter! I think my guilt of not updating for so long manifests in longer chapters. This was definitely Freya's chapter. She really is the moral core of the story, besides Gwen, and I love her. There wasn't a lot of Arthur in this chapter, but I figured since the last chapter was their first date, I could dial it back a little and focus on some of the other characters. But the next two chapters will be filled with Arthur/Gwen goodness, as well as Arthur's reaction to the Gwen/Lancelot kiss.

As always, please let me know what you think! Your thoughts mean the world to me .

-Hime

**:: This chapter was inspired by the song of the same name by Juice Newton::**


	12. You Could Be Happy

Chapter 12

You Could Be Happy

At nearly 2am, Gwen opened the door to the Pendragon Mansion very slowly. At the moment, she felt like she was seventeen, sneaking back into the house after being out all night with a boy.

She tiptoed through the kitchen in her socks, being extra careful not to make any loud movements.

The lights were still on in the living room and the TV was blaring. The bright colors flared, illuminating the faces of the two sleeping bodies on the couch.

Arthur's lean body spanned the length of the couch. His leg dangled off the cushion and his mouth was wide open. Mordred lay against his father, his little hands pressed against his chest.

The picture was far too adorable to pass up. She retrieved her phone from her purse and snapped a quick picture of the two before turning around and making her way towards the stairs.

"Oh no you don't!"

Before she realized what was happening, she was tackled to kitchen floor. Her phone flew out of her hand and skid across the floor in the dark.

"Where's the camera?"

She felt his arms feel around her body in the dark, searching for the offending object.

"Arthur, stop it!" she whispered harshly. "It's me! Guinevere!"

He stopped.

"Guinevere?"

He rolled off of her and helped her up with minimal effort.

"Oh gosh," he said, "I'm so sorry. I thought you were the paparazzi."

She gave him an odd look.

"Do paparazzi normally break and enter? If so, you might want to up the security in this place."

She walked over and retrieved her phone, wincing as she bent over to pick it up.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Nothing to worry about," she said. She turned towards Mordred. "Did we wake him?"

"I wouldn't worry about him," Arthur said. "That boy can sleep through anything."

He walked over and lifted his son off the couch gingerly before returning to her. Together they headed in the direction of the staircase.

"We waited up for you, you know," he said as they climbed the stairs. "Mordred was really excited to start singing. We just watched the rest of your production instead."

"I'm sorry I'm so late," she said. "I feel awful. But I'm certain we can pick up where we left off."

She followed Arthur into Mordred's room and watched as he placed his son under the covers. He placed a soft kiss to Mordred's forehead, just as she did the night before. The sight made her feel a bit odd, like she'd crossed a line she shouldn't have. Like she had been performing a poor imitation of this father-son relationship.

She moved out of the way, allowing Arthur to shut Mordred's door behind himself.

"You smell like him," he said after a moment.

"Like Mordred?" she asked, feigning innocence. She was not in the mood for this.

"No," Arthur said, crossing his hands over his chest. "Like Lancelot."

Gwen sighed.

"Can we not do this right now, Arthur? I'm incredibly tired. It's been a long night. I'm exhausted. I just want to go to sleep."

She turned away from him, strode down the hall and into her room, where she sat on her bed, head in her hands.

Arthur followed her, not willing to let the matter rest. This wasn't fair to him at all. He'd spent the entire night worrying about her. She hadn't returned any of his calls. He needed an explanation.

"Gwen, I really want to know—"

He stopped.

"You're crying," he said, his voice softening.

Gwen looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She frantically tried to wipe her eyes and face, but the tears continued to fall with abandon. He sat down on the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her to him.

"Hey," he said, rocking her body slowly in his arms. "What's going on with you?"

"Lance is a mess," she said, sniffling. "He's going to lose his sister. In a week, in two weeks, a month… it could happen any time. He's in so much pain, Arthur. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him."

_And the jerk of the year award goes to none other than Arthur Pendragon, pseudo-boyfriend and professional ass,_ he thought to himself.

"There's nothing you can really do but be there for him, Gwen," he said, smoothing down her hair with his hand. "You can't help his sister live longer. That's out of your hands—"

"He kissed me," she whispered, closing her eyes in shame.

There it was. What he had been waiting for all night. It hurt much more than he was expecting it to.

"Oh," he managed to say.

_She loves him. She always loved him. All those times she said she wanted to be with me…_

She lifted her head, pulling away from him. His grip on her shoulders fell lax.

"Arthur," she said, "I didn't kiss him back. I didn't want to."

He waited patiently for her to continue.

"I admit, I thought about the possibility for a while," she said, sighing. "I thought… I thought I still had feelings for him. But when he kissed me… I didn't feel _anything_."

It took all of his power not to smile. He'd also thought about the possibility. The possibility that in one months time, she would decide she wanted the stuck up, rich, rock star instead of him.

"He needed…comfort," she said, sniffling. "I couldn't give him what he needed. I couldn't. After everything that I've put him through…I still couldn't do it."

It was just like her to get upset about something completely out of her control.

"You can't help how you feel, Guinevere." He rubbed his thumb back and forth on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "I don't think he would have wanted you to kiss him out of pity."

"It would have been okay if I had just realized it then," she said, shaking her head slightly. "But I think… I think I've known it from the beginning. If I'm being honest with myself, my feelings for you… have always been there. I just… ignored them because I didn't think you'd ever be interested in… someone like me."

Arthur looked at her with furrowed brows. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "You're rich. Not to mention one of Camelot's most eligible bachelors. I'm… I'm just a nanny anyway you spin it. So… I went out with Lance. I was so enthralled with him. But, I'm now realizing, I don't know a thing about him. I didn't even know he had a sister…"

"Gwen, what are you saying?"

"What I mean to say is," she said, wiping her eyes. "I made my choice a long time ago. I was never going to go back to him. I never wanted to. I do feel guilty for what I've done… so incredibly guilty… and he'll always hold a special place in my heart as a dear friend. But…I choose _you_ Arthur. It's always been you."

His heart swelled. All the fear and anxiety he'd felt over her long departure suddenly fled his chest. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say that," he said a smile dancing across his face. "I kept thinking there was a chance that you'd go back to him."

She shook her head. "I'm completely sure of it now. I'm willing to give this a real shot, no timeline."

It sounded almost too good too be true. In spite of his happiness, some part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"And Lancelot?"

She looked down and pulled away. _There it is_, Arthur thought. _There's the catch._

"I promised him I'd be there for him through this," she said, looking him in the eye. "I owe him that as a friend. You should have seen him tonight, Arthur. He looks so broken. I know how it feels to be in that place… and I know how much I wanted a shoulder to cry on."

He sighed. It would be completely selfish of him to keep her from such a noble cause. He knew it would hurt him, thinking of him in her arms. What if he tried to pull the same stunt? Would she let her guilt take over?

"I trust you," he found himself saying. "You should be there for him in any way that you can."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a soft smile.

"I'm sorry for my behavior earlier…I just thought—"

"It's okay, really. I didn't really explain myself. I should have called."

"I just don't want to lose you," he said, placing his hands on either side of her face. "You may think you're dispensable, Gwen, and greatly underestimate yourself, but you're not dispensable to me."

Her face suddenly felt very warm, but her gaze never waivered. Arthur always said the most beautiful, perfect things to her in the right moment. However, it was his eyes that really spoke to her. They were filled with admiration and trust, brilliant blue and unclouded. She could tell he truly meant his words.

She leaned over and kissed him, smiling against his lips as she did so.

"Thank you," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for always believing in me Arthur. You have no idea what that means to me."

"No problem," he said, kissing the crown of her head.

"I suppose I should head back to my room now. I'm exhausted," she murmured into the crook of his neck. "I just don't feel like getting up."

"Stay here with me," he whispered back, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

She looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"I have the most honorable intentions, seriously," he said, holding his hands in front of him in defense.

She faux glared at him for a few moments before relenting.

"Alright," she said, pulling back the blankets. "Only if I get to wear your green flannel pajamas."

"I'm impressed." He smirked, getting up. "You remember random articles of clothing in my wardrobe."

He reached into his drawers, searching for the garment in question.

"I always notice when you wear green." She caught the clothing he threw to her. "It's my favorite color, remember?"

She stared at the clothes for a few moments thinking.

"I prefer red to gr—green," Arthur said.

She had pulled her t-shirt over her head and he suddenly found himself very, very distracted. He didn't understand how this woman could be adorable and so incredibly sexy at the same time. She was wearing a lacy black bra…how on earth did she hide _those _so well under her clothes? He'd seen her in a bathing suit for sure. But this was different... this was his bedroom. And she was here. Undressing. In his bedroom.

"You… er… you changed?"

"Yeah," she said, slowly unzipping her jeans. "Had a change of clothes in my bag. I hate the feel of bikinis under clothes, you know?"

"Uh—huh." He struggled to focus on her face. But how could he? His eyes couldn't get enough of her soft curves, the expanses of creamy brown skin, the impish glint in her bright eyes.

She pulled the flannel shirt over her shoulders. She spent her time with the buttons, slowly hooking all but two.

She threw the pants back to him and he caught them, in a daze.

"Too big," she said, winking.

How on earth did she expect him to have honorable intentions while she was dressed like that?

Arthur stuffed the pants in the drawer and stumbled back to his bed. He pulled back the covers and climbed under.

Gwen followed suit, crawling into bed. "Can I be the big spoon?" she asked.

"The big what?"

"Basically means I get to hug you from behind," she said. "I ask because the last time I did this, the guy had issues with being the little spoon—the spoonie."

He preferred this for tonight. If their positions were reversed, she might feel the result of her little strip tease earlier.

"Yeah, uh, sure," he said.

_Great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts, mutilated monkey meat, chopped up birdy feet_, he recited in his head. The trusty old camp song had always been successful in curving his arousal.

She snaked her arms around his waist. He was beginning to wonder if this reverse spooning had been a good idea. He could feel the warmth of her body and the curves of her breasts against his back.

_French fried eyeballs rolling up and down the street, oops I forgot my…spoon…_

"Goodnight, Arthur," she whispered, sidling up even closer.

_Good Lord._

* * *

Vivian was starting to hate her job. She was the secretary for the creative director. No one told her the job would entail coming to work six days a week at six in the morning. She was also on the sixth floor. Good thing she wasn't superstitious.

It would have been okay if she had something to look forward to. It had once been Arthur Pendragon, sexy CEO. At precisely 6:30, he would walk past her desk, give her a nod of approval, and head into Nimueh's office, likely to have a verbal tousle with the beautiful woman before heading the 49th floor.

He hadn't walked past her desk in weeks. In fact, she'd heard through the secretarial grapevine that he had been taking days off. In the six years she'd worked in this office, Arthur Pendragon had never taken the day off unless it was someone's birthday.

She bet it was because of his new beau, Gwen (Gabby?) or whatever her name was. She didn't understand how Arthur was attracted to _that. _She had to admit; she had nice hair and pretty eyes. Whatever. But _she_ was the hot blond in the office with the body to die for. She was the one he had kissed in the file room. _He_ had kissed her back.

What the fuck was his deal?

Vivian may have had a C+ average from college, but she wasn't an idiot. She played dumb a lot of the time, laid low. Even when she revealed her intelligence, most guys still wouldn't take her seriously. Arthur was one of the few people that realized it. But he didn't want her. She just couldn't win.

It was 6:30 now, almost time to go to the copy room and make duplicates of the feature spread for Nimueh. Oh happy day.

She looked up despite herself. Her heart leapt in her chest when someone passed by her desk.

"Good Morning, Ar—"

The man who turned around wasn't Arthur at all. It was…Leo? Linus? She hadn't seen him down here in ages. Actually she was convinced he had be avoiding this floor entirely.

"What, Vivian?" he said, snarling. "You going to make fun of my hair? Say that I could stand to lose a few pounds?"

The harshness of his tone surprised her. "I…er… just thought you were someone else."

She looked at him. Really looked at him. He was a far cry from the dorky photographer she'd enjoyed tormenting just a few months ago. He had groomed his unruly locks, cutting them to a reasonable length and… was that _product?_ He'd replaced his bifocals with some sexy thick rimmed glasses. His worn satchel was replaced with a classier black camera bag. Dark blue button down… black slacks… Armani shoes?

"Sweet Jesus…" she managed to say, standing up. "You actually…look… good."

He placed his palms on her desk ready to attack.

"Well you know what? I'm tired of—what did you say?"

"I said you look good," she said, smiling. "I can still tell you're a dork and there's probably a Superman comic in that bag of yours, Smallville."

She covered her mouth quickly, sinking back into her chair.

"Who's the dork now, Vivian?"

"Shut up," she said, turning back to her screen. "You tell anyone…"

"Your secret's safe with me, Miss Lane," he said, winking.

"It's Carlyle," she said with gritted teeth, "Vivian Carlyle."

"Now you know how it feels," he said, crossing his hands over his chest with an obnoxious grin. "My name isn't Ponce de Leon, Ben Linus, Loser, Dork—"

"Fine," she hissed. "Your name is Leon. Hot… shot photographer. Happy?"

"Very," he said.

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to him, appraising his new look.

"What brought about this change, Kent?"

The smirk disappeared from his face, his eyes focusing on his Armani shoes.

"I don't think that matters anymore," he said.

"A woman?" she laughed. "As if _you_ could get a woman."

She didn't know why she liked to push his buttons. It was obvious he was hurting. But Vivian had never given a damn about anyone's feelings. She wasn't going to start now.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," he snapped. "God, Vivian, after all these years, you're still a class A bitch. Enjoy your morning."

"Wait!"

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He turned around, his eyes still filled with anger and exasperation.

"Look, Leon," she said. "I… shouldn't have said that."

His eyes softened at her attempt at an apology.

"And…I'm sorry… for—treating you…badly. Or whatever."

He nodded. "Good enough for me."

She looked towards the folder in his hand. "Where're you headed?"

"Copy room," he said, looking at her strangely. "Why?"

She stood up, gathering her papers in a neat bundle. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," he said.

She walked around the circular reception area to meet him. As the headed to the copy room, her Milano heels clicked against the floor in a steady rhythm.

"I… I'm sorry she broke your heart," she said, staring straight ahead.

He didn't pause or stumble for a moment. "I'm sorry he broke yours," he said.

They turned the corner, walking by the clear glass doors of Nimueh's sleek office. Her blue eyes met with Vivian's brown ones for a fraction of a second before Vivian turned away, feeling suddenly and surprisingly guilty.

_Do you even know what you want, Morgana? Do you?_

She couldn't sleep. And it wasn't from the red eye flight. She'd made a horrible mistake. One she would surely pay for in the long run.

_That's all you do. Run. When things are going well, you run away because you're scared of what might happen if you just open yourself up to change._

Her hands gripped the handle of her designer carry on as she walked up the path to her apartment. Milan was over, so was, as they say, the honeymoon.

_Fuck, Morgana! Did you ever love me? Even for a moment? I came back because I still love you. He doesn't. He never will._

Up the elevator shaft, onto the fiftieth floor. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, letting herself in. The apartment was dark. She hoped he was asleep. She wasn't sure she could face him. Not now.

"_I do love you," she said once again. "I do."_

"_Just not enough," he said, his voice breaking._

"_I'm just going back for a little while," she reassured him. "He needs me. I have to be there for him."_

"_If you were being honest with me," he said, raking a shaking hand through his hair, "I would let you go, no questions asked. And I would welcome you back, with open arms. But I know you're lying. I can always tell when you're lying. You're going because you think there's some chance that he still loves you. He doesn't. He's moved on, even though you clearly haven't—"_

"_It's complicated," she said._

"_No." He shook his head. "It's remarkably simple. The possibility that he could love you means more to you than the fact that I currently do."_

_She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Because he was right._

"_I won't sit here and watch you torture yourself," he said with finality. "I love you too much…and I respect myself too much. We both deserve better than that."_

_She wanted to fight it. She wanted to pull him back into the bed, get lost in the sweet bliss that was his body. But it was far too late for that._

_He leaned forward and captured her lips again, quickly. Business-like. _

"_Goodbye, Morgana," he said, standing up. "I really hope you find what you're looking for."_

_He left her sitting there, naked on the bed. And she remained so for hours before packing her things and purchasing the first ticket home._

And here she was. Home. Despite what she thought, she didn't magically feel better as she crossed the threshold.

"I didn't expect you back for a couple of days."

She heard the telltale sign of the living room lamp clicking on. Merlin was sitting in her white living room sofa, staring at her. Shit.

"Change of plans." She kicked off her pumps and pressed down the handle of her suitcase. "Mind if I ask what you're doing up so late?"

She gestured to the rustic clock on the mantelpiece.

"Thinking," he said, patting the space beside him. "Something tells me you're not going to be sleeping either."

"How can you—"

"Because I know you, Morgana," he said with a half smile. "You have that look in your eye."

She hopped over the sofa, landing inches away from him.

"What _look_?"

"The holy-shit-what-just-happened look. It's the same look you had when what'shisface died on Skins."

"Which one?" she said, smiling a little.

"Hell if I remember his name," he said leaning back. "Anyways, it's that look times 100."

"Right." She pulled her knees close to her chest and buried her face in them. "Well yeah, this feels a hell of a lot worse than that."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassured her. "We could just sit here."

_I said your name. Not his. I said… I shouted… your name, when I dug my fingers into his back. I hurt him because I love you. You, Merlin. What can you possibly do about that?_

"Yeah," she said, taking a long deep sigh. "I don't want to… I can't talk about it right now."

_I'm not the one with the dying girlfriend. I'm the stupid fuck who gave up something wonderful… just to torture myself. _

She laughed suddenly, startling her couch partner.

"You're not… going crazy are you?" he asked. "Because if that's the case, there's only so much I can do for you."

"I just find it funny that you're the therapist here when I flew almost 15 hours to comfort _you."_

"We're not playing a game of who's life sucks the most, Morgana," he said, chuckling. "I'm not going to ignore your pain just so I can go all woe is me."

He was staring at her now. It was making her feel uneasy, being so close to him. She'd made it a rule to always but a barrier between them. He did as well. They were best friends. Nothing more. She couldn't let it be anything more.

It was ironic that, now that he was off limits to her, they had both allowed themselves to get closer than they had ever been since…the incident.

He placed wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer. Speak of the devil. But it was innocent, and completely so. As it should be.

Nevertheless, she sidled up beside him pressing her head to his chest and closing her eyes.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

She opened her eyes, placing a palm on his chest. "I think we're cursed."

"If Uther could hear you talking now," Merlin said, shaking his head. "Any mention of a curse and he'd threaten to ground Arthur."

"But never me," she said. "Because threatening Arthur was enough to get me to stop doing it."

"We're not cursed, Ana." He sighed. "It's life. No one has a perfect life. We all face hardship at one time or another. Some face more hardship than others, for sure. But as long as you have people in your life that you love, you're bound to face it some time or another. But we don't sever our ties to stop ourselves from feeling the pain. Because no matter how difficult it is to lose those people, our lives wouldn't be complete without them."

Ah-na. He was the only one who called her that.

"Hmm," she said, closing her eyes once more. "When did you get so profound?"

"I've had a lot of time to think. It may drive me insane, but I'm becoming a regular John Locke."

_Tabala Rasa, my ass_.

"I prefer Hobbes, myself," she murmured.

"Nah," Merlin said. "I don't believe it for a second, Morgana. It's remarkable how little you think of yourself."

She wasn't going to fish. That was Arthur's tactic, not hers, and he knew it.

"You're kind and you're fiercely loyal," he continued. "Compassionate. Intelligent. You always say that you're broken. But that doesn't mean you're not beautiful, inside and out."

She let herself smile.

"Don't get me wrong," he added. "You're annoying as hell sometimes. You start arguments you know you can't win, just for the sake of arguing. You can be extremely selfish. And you never throw away the empty cartons in the fridge."

"Just had to throw that last one in there," she mumbled.

"Sorry, pet peeve," he said. "But anyways. What I'm trying to say is… you really are extraordinary. And I'm happy that I know you and that you're in my life."

Wow. She most certainly wasn't expecting that.

"You're not crying, are you?" He shifted to get a look at her face. "Morgana…"

"Fuck," she said, wiping her face with her hands. "Fuck you, Merlin. "

"And you've got the mouth of a sailor," he added, chuckling.

She laughed. "I'm making a complete ass of myself here and you're clearly enjoying it."

"Yup."

"Typical," she scoffed. "And for that, I'm going to use your shirt as a tissue."

"As long as you don't blow your nose or something, we're cool."

They sat there for a few moments, both threatening to get lost in their own depressing thoughts.

"What were you thinking about when I came in?"

"I was thinking about Christmas," he said, without hesitation.

"Your favorite holiday," she said, giggling. "You always made a big show of getting people the most sentimental gifts."

"I bought Freya this gift months ago," he said. "And I was just thinking that she'll probably be dead before Christmas. And from this year forward… I'll probably never think of Christmas the same way again."

And there it was. Her smile fell.

"You should… give it to her then," she said lamely. "It doesn't have to be Christmas for it to mean something. In fact, it'll probably mean more to her now than it would then."

"I know… but I really wanted it to be special, you know?"

She sat up suddenly.

"What?" Merlin sat up too, looking alarmed. "Did you feel a spider? I thought you said, you spider-proofed your apartment."

"Oh, the spiders don't stand a chance in this place," she said, waving him off. "It's just… I have an idea. Something wonderful. It's kind of crazy, so bear with me."

"When have your ideas ever _not _been crazy? You remember the popsicle heist of 1985? Because I sure haven't."

"This is much bigger than popsicles," she said. "I'm going to need a pen and some paper."

He stared at her for a moment.

"Just trust me on this one," she said. "You'll thank me later."

"I almost never thank you later." But he got up anyways and started rifling through the drawers for the items she requested.

Morgana felt less sad now, knowing there was something she could do for Freya. It had been her dream when she was younger. But she'd let go of that a long time ago, but she'd give up all hope that it'd ever happen for her. It was time to give that dream to someone else.

Maybe then she could start on the long journey to forgiving herself.

* * *

Gwen woke up to a pair of arms around her waist, and stubble against her neck.

"Mmm," she said, cracking an eye open. "I thought you said you didn't mind being the small spoon?"

"You're warm," he whispered, kissing her neck. "And you're not wearing pants. I figured I could take advantage of that."

"Devious," she said.

"And," he said, slipping his hand under her shirt. "I have easier access."

"Arthur—"

"I have a half-dressed, beautiful girl in my bed." She gasped as he cupped her breast under her bra. "I'm opportunist."

"Arth—uhhh…Arthur," she said, her words coming out in sharp breaths. "What if—oh! What… what about mmm…"

He had unclasped her bra expertly and his thumbs were moving back and forth, slowly. Now they were making slow tantalizing circles, massaging…

She would never be able to look as his hands the same way again.

"You were saying?"

She couldn't see his face, but she imagined he was mocking her with that smirk, the one that managed to make him simultaneously sexy and obnoxious.

If she were able to think straight, she might be embarrassed at the noises that were coming out of her throat at the moment. She did take the precaution of biting her knuckles to muffle her moans.

He noticed this and silenced her with a kiss. He could feel the vibrations against his lips and her body arching against his. She was driving him crazy. He wanted her. Badly. But he knew she didn't want him like this. Gwen was a sentimental girl. And as much as he denied it, so was he.

The soles of her feet ran up his inner thigh, finally brushing against dangerous territory. This time, he moaned. She smirked against his lips, almost taunting him.

"Daddy!"

Gwen gasped and pulled away before doing an impressive roll off the edge of his bed and crashing to the floor, hidden from view.

_Mutilated monkey meat. Chopped up birdie feet…_

"I'm in here, Mor," he yelled, still catching his breath.

He heard rapid footsteps down the hall. The door burst open and a bright red blur collided with his chest.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Mor… can't… breathe!"

"Oh! Sorry!" He loosened his grip around his father's waist. "I just wanted to tell you before you went to work."

"Tell me that it's my birthday?" Arthur ruffled Mordred's hair. "I think I'd know that by now. I've had twenty nine birthdays."

"Not that, daddy." He wrinkled his nose. "I wanted to say Happy Birthday, and I love you more than anything in the whole wide world."

"More than your crayons?"

"Much more than my crayons!"

"What an honor." He kissed his son's forehead. "And you should know that I love you too."

"I already knew that, Daddy!" Mordred climbed into his lap. "Do you really have to work?"

"Yeah," Arthur said. "I took yesterday off, remember? For the beach?"

"Oh."

"But Sunday's a slow day," he added. "I might be able to get out at five or six."

"Yes!"

Gwen had crawled under the bed now, being very careful not to make a sound.

"Daddy, why are your pants on the floor?" Mordred pointed to the offending article of clothing. "You yell at me all the time for not folding my clothes."

"It's my birthday, remember?"

"So I can throw my clothes on the floor on _my _birthday?"

"No…" Arthur wanted to slap himself. "I mean… you're right, Mor. I was tired last night and I didn't pick up before heading to bed."

"I can pick things up for you!"

He hopped off his father's lap and started picking up his father's clothes. Both Gwen and Arthur panicked. Her bra was on the floor… on the bed… somewhere. Her _bra._

"Ay, Mordred," Arthur said, his voice betraying a bit of his panic. "You should go brush your teeth and take a shower and stuff."

"Ok! Whatever you say, daddy! It's _your _birthday."

They let out a sigh of relief as he damn near skipped out of the room, humming Happy Birthday.

Gwen crawled out from under the bed and began hastily buttoning up her borrowed top.

"I thought he almost had us there," Arthur said, breathing a sigh of relief. "We cut it pretty close."

"Oh god, I was terrified," she said, fumbling with the buttons. "Also, I… didn't know it was your birthday. I knew it was soon. But December 1st? Gosh. I don't have nearly enough time…I don't even know what…"

"Hey," he said, placing his hand over hers. "I never told you an exact date. You're off the hook."

"I don't want to be off the hook," she mumbled. "I have less than twelve hours to get you a great gift. No problem. None."

"You really don't have to—"

She pointed to her self. "I am the Birthday Queen, remember. I can't just _forget _about it. Where would my reputation go then? My dignity…"

"I think you're taking this a little too seriously."

Her sharp look silenced him.

"Ooo…kay," he said, slowly. "Getting up now."

"I wish you didn't have to go to work," she said, collecting her various items of clothing around the room. "You don't even get to enjoy your entire birthday."

"Oh don't worry," he said catching her eye. "If my birthday ended right now, I'd be completely satisfied."

She blushed.

"In fact, you could just put a bow on yourself and call it a day—"

"Aha!"

"Really?" He paused at his dresser. "I really didn't think that would work…"

"No, silly," she said, shaking her head. "I figured out your present. One part of it, at least."

"Alrighty, Sherlock Holmes," he said, smiling. "Have at it."

"Elementary, my dear Watson," she said, holding her chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"You know he never actually said—"

"Shhh," she said, pressing her finger to her lips. "Don't ruin my childhood."

"Alrighty then," he said, slowly. "I'm going to take a shower now. Have fun playing detective."

"Oh I will," she said.

She turned to leave, clothes in hand.

"Wait."

Arthur grasped her arm pulled her to him. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her. It was so utterly domestic that it shocked her. How on earth had he changed from lusty bed partner to sweet and adorable boyfriend so quickly?

"This is really happening, right," she said, looking a bit dazed. "I'm not asleep or anything?"

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," he said, grinning.

They stood there for a few moments, staring at each other with goofy expressions on their faces.

"I'd better…"

"Yeah, me too."

A goofy smile. A happy glance back. A closed door.

_Happy Birthday, indeed._

* * *

"What're you looking for?"

Gwen screeched and jumped in surprise. Her had collided painfully from with the wooden frame of the cabinet.

"Owwww!"

"Sorry!"

She crawled out of the lower cabinet, rubbing her head to stop the pain. Mordred was standing over her, leaning slightly to peer into the cabinet.

"A cookbook," she said, finally.

"Daddy keeps all the books on the basement floor!"

"I've… never been down there before."

Basements gave her the creeps. Ever since she read that Goosebumps book about _not_ going down to the basement. Even though she was twenty-three years old, she was still terrified of the proverbial things that went bump in the night.

"Come on! I'll take you!"

She let the excited tiny person drag her through the foyer (what a pretentious name for a glorified lobby), past the gold incrusted staircase (really, Arthur?), to a door with a marble handle.

Mordred opened the door and flew down the stairs. The lights automatically turned on after him.

"Why do these lights turn on by themselves?"

"My daddy bought them to scare away basement monster," he said once she met him at the bottom of the stairs. "He's the monster that chases you when you run up the stairs when it's dark."

"What about closet monster?"

"You _know _about closet monster?"

"That's why I can't sleep with the closet door open," she admitted.

"Don't worry," Mordred reassured her, "If you close your eyes and count to ten, the monster won't bother you. Doesn't work on shower monster, though. You've got to use the hairdryer."

She giggled as she followed him down the basement hallway.

"Here's the dance studio. Right next to it is the recording studio," Mordred said, gesturing to each room briefly. "Daddy says mommy wanted to let me try everything when I was in her tummy. So he built this basement!"

Her heart lurched every time he spoke of his mother. She knew Arthur was hiding something, something big enough to keep a young boy from his mother. And to see the blind, innocent hope he had in his mother was almost too much for her.

She walked by a game room with table tennis, ice hockey, and… what looked like a rock climbing wall. A dark room for photography, an editing room for filmmaking, …how had she never been down here before?

"Why don't you come down here, Mordred?"

"Daddy's always too busy to come down here with me," he admitted. "And he doesn't want me down here by myself."

And there was the sadness again.

"You should ask him, you know, since he has more time off now," she suggested.

"Yeah!"

They arrived at another door that as slightly ajar. Mordred pushed the door open and gestured for her to follow.

"Holy Sh… Guacamole," she whispered as the lights turned on.

Books, upon books, upon books spanned three entire walls of the room. Built in shelves, each painted a different color. A beautiful rocking chair was positioned against the wall opposite the door. A beautiful mural spanned the entire wall with pictures referencing several childhood stories and movies. Harry Potter, Paddington Bear, Rainbow Fish, Franklin, Ariel…

"Look!" He pointed to the far left. "It's you!"

She giggled. He was pointing to a picture of Aurora dancing with Prince Phillip. "This is such an amazing room, Mordred."

"It's my favorite room in the house," he told her. "Daddy said mommy painted that wall when I was just a baby."

"Your mother is incredibly talented," she said, marveling at the painting. "It must have taken her ages…"

"Cookbooks are over here!"

She walked over to the left wall where Mordred was pointing. "Cookbooks" spanned four cubes on the wall.

"Giada…Ina Garten…Martha Stuart Living…"

Gwen ran her finger over the spine of each book as she searched the bookshelf. She wasn't sure she'd find this fabled book in the house. Arthur had just mentioned it in passing. What if Morgana had it? Or his father?"

"Vegetarian Cuisine… Ygraine's cooking…"

She stopped.

This book had a worn white spine, clearly not professionally bound. The title was painted in yellow. She pulled the book from the shelf and cracked it open.

Chicken Noodle Soup for the Pendragon Soul

Guaranteed to brighten your little dragon's day!

_I have never met a little boy who gets sick as much as Arthur. It's absolutely dreadful. And I make him stay in bed all day. I'm certain he hates it. That boy doesn't stay in bed for too long. So I came up with this soup to cheer him up… and now the number of times my son has "gotten sick" has mysteriously doubled._

Below the excerpt was a picture of a young Arthur, possibly Mordred's age in bed with a thermometer in his mouth and a wet towel on his head. He was glaring at the photographer.

She smiled at the picture and continued to flip through the pages. Banana Chocolate Chip Pancakes, Homemade Dragon Pops, Jalapeño Peppers…

"Why do you want Grandma's cookbook?"

"Because I want to make something special for your father," she answered, gingerly turning the pages. "And your grandma… is brilliant."

"Can I help?"

"Of course! You can be my little helper! But you've got to be ready. There's a long day ahead. And I'm going to need your help making daddy's present, okay?"

"Sure!"

"We've got to hurry! We only have 12 hours!"

She lead the way down the long hallway, up the stairs and back into the kitchen.

"What are we making?"

Gwen reached down and lifted him off the floor and plopped him on top of the counter. She grinned at him before opening the cookbook onto the counter.

"Octopus and eel. Fried Gophers. Worm Spaghetti—"

"Ewww!"

She looked up from the cookbook. "What you don't like that stuff? I thought everyone did."

Mordred grabbed the cookbook from her, flipping the pages quickly.

"Daddy really likes lamb," he said. "And mashed potatoes. And cake!"

She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear a single vegetable."

"Uhhh," he said, flipping through the book. "Daddy doesn't like corn or carrots or peas…. He likes Aspari… Aspara…"

"Asparagus?"

"That," he said.

"Okay… so Jalapeño Poppers, Lamb and Mashed Potatoes, Asparagus…"

"And CAKE!"

"Cake, right," she said, tapping her chin with her finger. "What kind—"

"Strawberry!"

"Alright," she said, smiling. "See how much I needed your help? Your father would have hated the raw onions I was going to serve."

Mordred nodded furiously.

* * *

Today was a good day for Arthur Pendragon. All the magazines were on schedule, they were serving tiramisu in the cafeteria, and he'd woken up to a beautiful woman in his arms. Not a grey cloud in sight.

A manila folder landed on Arthur's desk with a definitive _thump. _

"The prints from the Milan shoot."

Arthur looked up, grinning. "Glad to have you back, Leon. I can see Morgana finally convinced you to spruce up a bit. The starving photographer look was a little outdated. Though… you're missing a button."

He pointed to his friend's midsection. Leon looked down and frantically redid his bottom buttons.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Your hair… is all messed up too…don't tell me…"

Leon coughed. "If you no longer require anything from me, I'll be on my way."

"Who was she?"

"I don't have to answer that," Leon said. "That's none of your business."

"Oh yes it is." Arthur stood up to face him. "I can't believe you! I trusted you with my sister! I never expected…what the fuck, Leon?"

"She didn't tell you, did she?" Leon laughed without a tinge of good humor. "I love your sister, Arthur. But she sure as hell doesn't love me. She'd rather be with someone who will probably never love her back."

"Merlin," Arthur said, leaning back against his desk. "Gosh, Leon, if I had known…"

"Oh, stop it, Arthur," Leon snapped. " I know for damn certain why you set the two of up back up in the first place. You wanted to distract her from Merlin and his girlfriend, but you didn't want her to drown her sorrows in someone like Alvarr. So you set this whole thing up."

"That was definitely part of it," Arthur admitted. "But I honestly did think the two of you could be happy. I knew you would take care of her."

"Well, you were wrong, Arthur," said Leon. "And, quite frankly, I'm hurt that you thought I would cheat on your sister."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, appraising his friend's messy appearance once more. "You certainly moved on fast, though, didn't you?"

"Oh for goodness sake!"

Leon pulled out a shirt from his brief case and shook it in front of Arthur.

"Vivian," he said, laughing. "You know, the pretty blond receptionist on the sixth floor?"

Arthur looked up with pure horror in his eyes.

"You didn't—"

"She spilled coffee all over my shirt," Leon said, rolling his eyes. He pointed to his current shirt. "Stole this from the closet. Versace."

Arthur let out a sigh of relief.

"What were you doing with Vivian? I thought you couldn't stand her. Or she couldn't stand you. One of those."

"How about both," he said. "I can hardly believe it myself. She's actually not as bad as people think. Still hung up on you, I think. She asked me a lot of questions. But eventually, we were talking about other things too. She's wicked smart. Makes me wonder why she hasn't gotten a promotion or something."

"She kissed me one day when we were 'reorganizing the office'," Arthur said suddenly. "She's not interested in a promotion. And it's common knowledge that she wants to marry money. I'd watch out if I were you."

"I think she's misunderstood for sure," Leon countered. "And you don't have to worry about me. I'm steering clear of women for a while."

"My sister did a number on you, didn't she?"

"Your sister broke my heart, Arthur," he said. He was smiling, but Arthur could see the pain in his eyes. "Nice guys finish last, remember?"

"Don't worry, Leon," Arthur said, grasping his friend's shoulder. "You'll find her. Just give it time."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've found her, Mr. Former Love Cynic. I seriously envy you right now."

"I haven't found anyone," he scoffed. "I am _with _her if that's what you're implying. And I'm not in love with her—"

"Okay, sorry I mentioned it." Leon put his hands in the air and started backing out. "But for what it's worth, you look happier than I've seen you in a long time. Just don't screw it up, okay."

"How do you know _I'm_ going to screw it up? What about her?"

Leon gave him a look.

"Right, right," Arthur said. "The truth is… I just know it's too good to be true. She's amazing, Leon. And… I can't help feeling as if I don't deserve her."

"You Pendragons and your low self esteem," Leon muttered. "Seriously, just enjoy the moment. Stop thinking of the many ways you could screw it up."

Arthur nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right." Leon grinned. "Now I've got to get back to work. Happy Birthday, Arthur."

"Thanks," Arthur said. "And go ahead and take the next few days off. Distract yourself. Spend time with your kid. Do some soul searching or something."

Leon chuckled. "Sure thing, Boss."

Arthur waited until the door was completely shut before he sunk back into his office chair. He was going to have a long talk with his dear sister. He honestly didn't know what had gotten into her. He'd handed her the perfect guy on a silver platter and she blew it. And Merlin…he probably had no idea.

The office phone rang and he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Daddy?"

Arthur smiled. "Hey, Mor."

"Gwen wants to know…" he stopped, and Arthur could hear loud shushing in the background. "What time are you coming home?"

"Five, I think."

"Okay... that's good…I think." More whispers. "White or black?"

"Black," he said, slowly. "Mor, what are you up to."

"We're making—"

"That's all we have time for, Arthur, so you're just going to have to sit tight," said Guinevere. "See you at five."

He heard a click and then the dial tone.

Arthur had never been too fond of his birthday. It was a horrible day for his family, and his father never let him forget it. Ever since his 21st birthday, his father would go abroad, and send him gifts, but would never actually say "Happy Birthday". He didn't blame him. It was the same day his father decided to commit his mother to a hospital. She'd burnt his birthday dinner… forgot who it was she was making the cake for…forgotten who he was entirely.

But hearing the excited voices of Mordred and Gwen stirred something inside of him. Happiness. His son was having fun again, with his nanny of all people.

He always had Mordred, and meant everything to him. But now, for the first time in a long time, he had a _family_ to come home to.

"Now just move the spatula back and forth across the frosting and you're done!"

Gwen was leaning over Mordred's shoulder as he bit his lip in concentration. Almost everything was in order. The lamb was on the table, the poppers were in the oven, asparagus seasoned and drizzled with oil. The cake was the last thing on the list.

"Like that?"

He looked up at her, searching for approval.

"That's perfect," she said. "Now what should we write on it?"

"Happy Birthday! We love you!"

Gwen froze.

"Umm… you sure?"

Mordred nodded. "I know _I _love my Daddy more than anyone. And you love him too because you're his friend. And Merlin and Auntie Morgana love him too. Daddy says you can love someone without being all kissy and gross."

Crisis averted.

"Sounds good," she said.

She slowly wrote the message in her signature curly cue style, replacing the world "love" with a heart.

She carefully moved the cake to the center of the table. She was extremely proud of how the cake turned out. The frosting was bright red with green writing. When she made cakes for her father and brother's birthdays, she could never make the frosting look so vibrant without the entire cake tasting like food coloring. The high quality ingredients made all the difference.

The doorbell rang. Gwen looked at her watch. 4:45. Was he coming home early?

She quickly untied her apron and placed it on the couch.

"Mr. Emrys and Miss Pendragon," the butler announced from the lobby.

She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the counter.

"We're in the kitchen!"

They rounded the corner a few moments later, each carrying gifts with silver wrapping paper.

"Auntie Morgana!"

Mordred ran to her, hugging her leg fiercely.

"Hey," she said, placing the present on the ground and returning the hug. "I missed you while I was in Italy. How've you been, Mor?"

"Great!" He pointed towards the table. "We made dinner and presents for daddy! And we went to the beach yesterday! And I got to jump in a sand castle, and swim in the ocean, and daddy bought me ice cream even though I ate all the Rocky Road!"

"Sounds like you've been having a great time." She retrieved something from her pocket and handed it to him. "Don't tell your father."

"SKITTLES!"

"That there," Merlin said, pointing at the now spastic Mordred, "was a HUGE mistake. The tropical kind is even worse than the original. That stuff is like brightly colored crack for the kid, remember?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "It's just one bag, what harm could it do?"

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," Gwen said. "I didn't even realize it was Arthur's birthday until this morning."

"We don't mind," Merlin said, collecting the two presents and placing them on the table with the others. "We've been trying to get Arthur to celebrate his birthday with us for years. I'm just wondering how you managed to do it."

"I didn't really give him much of a choice," Gwen said. "No one says no to the Birthday Queen."

Morgana and Merlin exchanged confused looks.

"Never mind," Gwen mumbled.

Morgana whistled. "You've really outdone yourself Gwen."

"Thank you," Gwen said. "Though, I can't take all the credit. I had my little kitchen helper to make my life easier."

"That's me!"

Morgana's eyes widened. "You got Mordred to help you cook? How did you manage that? How strong was the sedative?"

"Mordred and I are _friends_ now," Gwen said, very slowly.

"I must be dreaming." Merlin lifted his arm up and pinched himself multiple times. "Mordred doesn't make friends with his nannies. He makes them cry… and question the meaning of life."

"You really are something else, Gwen," Morgana said, reaching over to hug the shorter girl. "Thanks for this. You really didn't have to."

"What'd you get him?"

Morgana placed her hand over Gwen's mouth. "You don't want to tell Merlin that. Tell him a serious secret and he'll keep it a secret, but do NOT tell him about presents. It's almost like he has some compulsive urge to tell."

"He told me I'm getting an autographed copy of the Harry Potter series for Christmas!"

Morgana glared at Merlin who put his hands up.

"And put those skittles away, young man," Morgana said without taking her eyes off of Merlin. "Those are for later. You're going to spoil your appetite."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, stuffing the bag in his pocket.

The doorbell rang again.

"Take a seat, everyone," Gwen said. "The birthday King has arrived!"

"King Arthur?" Morgana laughed. "That sounds ridiculous. Also, we wouldn't want to make his head even larger than it already is."

"Never miss an opportunity to take a shot at me, do you?"

Arthur reached over and hugged his sister from the side.

"Nope," Morgana said.

"Happy Birthday," Merlin said, patting him on the back.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I know you guys want to hug. No one's judging."

Gwen laughed as Arthur practically shoved his sister away to give his friend a huge bear hug. Adorable.

"It's been a long time since you've stopped by," Arthur said, releasing him.

"Well, you know…"

"I know," Arthur said, looking his friend in the eye. "And I appreciate you coming here despite that."

"It was all Gwen," Merlin said, gesturing towards the sheepish nanny. "She said she was throwing you a party and I had to see it for myself."

"And me daddy! I frosted the cake! And made you a present, and helped mash the potatoes, and…"

"Come here." He gestured at his son then looked pointedly at Gwen. "Both of you."

Mordred ran and hugged his father's waist, while Gwen hesitantly moved towards him. Arthur lifted his son into his arms and pulled Gwen to the side He placed a kiss on both their cheeks… or, at least, he meant to. Instead, Gwen turned her head at the precise moment, and he accidently kissed her on the lips instead.

Miraculously, Mordred didn't notice. But Arthur suspected the two grinning dark-haired idiots in the corner hadn't missed a thing.

"Er… we should sit down," Gwen said, expertly diffusing the awkwardness. "The food's going to get cold."

She tried to take the seat furthest from Arthur, but both Morgana and Merlin rushed towards the other end of the table, grinning. She let out a huge sigh and plopped down in the seat next to him.

"Let them have their fun," Arthur whispered, shaking his head at their shenanigans. "Let's be honest: it's not going to be a secret for very long."

She looked over at Mordred, who was bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Don't worry." He grasped her knee under the table and smiled at her. "He's not going to know before he's ready. And I'll be the one to tell him. For now, let's just enjoy ourselves."

"Alright," she said softly. She cleared her throat and gestured at the table. "Help yourselves to whatever you like!"

And they did. Merlin steered away from the lamp, but took a large helping of mashed potatoes and Asparagus. Morgana and Arthur took a little bit of everything. Mordred had tried to take the entire cake without anyone noticing.

"Nice try," Arthur said, placing the cake far out of his son's reach.

Gwen took a sizeable piece of lamb as well, marveling at how tender the meat was. Her family could never afford such luxury meat or any of the seasonings she had used to marinate it.

"This tastes… familiar," Arthur said, cutting into another piece of lamb. "Those jalapeños too…"

"I helped Gwen find Grandma's old cookbook," Mordred said with his mouth full of food, "There's a lot of funny stories in it."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Mor," Arthur and Morgana said simultaneously.

Mordred sat back in his chair in a huff.

"Amazing," Arthur said. "I can't believe you remembered the cookbook… that you made all of her recipes on this day… you have no idea how much this means to me."

His stare was so intense, so _sincere_. Her cheeks reddened as she turned away. "It… it was nothing, really. I just wanted you to have a good birthday, Arthur."

"You know what would make his birthday even better?" Merlin grinned. "Giving him—"

Arthur threw his spoon at Merlin's head, silencing him.

"Now I know where your son got his aim," Gwen said, cringing. "Speaking of gifts, why don't you open yours while everyone's finishing up."

"Then cake?"

"Yes, Mordred," Gwen said, passing the presents to Arthur's side of the table. "Then you can have cake."

"Yes!"

Arthur reached for Merlin's present first and shook it vigorously.

"You're going to break it!"

"I'm checking to make sure it's not some type of bomb, _Merlin_," Arthur said.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "If it were a bomb, I'm sure it would have blown up by now, idiot."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Right."

He tore off the wrapping paper and opened the brown box inside.

"Cassettes?"

"From the Alex and Merlin show," Merlin explained.

"Wow," Arthur said, riffling through the box. "I never thought you'd let me have these. We have one from that time we put gum in Morgana's hair… and from _that_ Christmas."

Morgana glared.

Merlin cleared his throat. "I had some copies made a long time ago. I figured you could show them to Mordred, have a laugh."

"Wow…this is… thank you, Merlin," Arthur said.

"Just had to upstage me," Morgana said, sighing. "You know I'm not super sentimental."

"As long as you didn't get me pumps or anything," Arthur said, placing Merlin's present aside.

He lifted the cover off of the medium sized box and his eyes widened.

"First edition copy… of Fahrenheit 451...how did you—"

"You're a huge dork," Morgana said, grinning, "you used to talk about this much til' your face turned blue and my ears bled. And I've got connections, as you know."

He _did_ know. But he'd rather not think about Morgana and her _many_ connections at the moment. Not while there was food in front of him.

"And you say you're not sentimental," Arthur teased. "You're not fooling anyone."

"Keep talking, and we'll experiment to see what temperature books _really _burn," Morgana threatened with narrowed eyes.

Arthur quickly replaced the top of the box and placed it safely under his chair.

Mordred reached over and slid his present closer to his father. "Me next, daddy!"

"Alrighty, Mor." He ruffled his son's hair. "I wonder what it could be?"

Arthur ripped away the wrapping paper, holding his present at arms length.

"Wow…"

His son had painted him a picture. Arthur was surprised; Mordred usually stuck to Crayola and was very good at drawing for his age. But this… he'd never seen his son make something like this.

It was a picture of him, Mordred, and Gwen posing in front of the sand castle. The sun was brilliantly colored, the water and sand incredibly detailed for a 7-year-old's art. It was no Monet, for sure, but it made Arthur realize just how talented his son really was.

"Do you like it, Dad?"

"Mordred… this is really amazing," Arthur said, turning his head. "I'm going to frame this and put it on my dresser."

"Really?"

"It's the most amazing gift I've ever received," he said, reaching down to give his son a hug. "From the most special person in my life."

"Merlin… are you crying?"

"Shut up, Morgana," Merlin said, frantically wiping his eyes. "It's just some dust, that's all."

"He worked really hard on it," Gwen added. "All while helping me in the kitchen. Honestly…I should have asked to go next. I realize when I've been completely upstaged in the gift department."

She reached over to grab her gift, but he was too quick for her.

"You've already done all this for me," Arthur said gesturing around the table. "Brought my family together…organized this entire thing… there could be a live rat in there and I'd be completely satisfied."

"Just as long as it's not rat stew," Merlin added.

"Rat…stew?"

"It's a rather long and disgusting story," Arthur said as he peeled off the wrapping paper.

"Ah," Gwen said, watching closely as he held the unwrapped present in his palm.

It was a small, square "book" made of black construction paper. Two white ribbons held the hole-punched pages together.

"Arthur's coupon book…" He looked at her. "You do know I'm rich, right?"

"Just open it."

He flipped to the first page.

"Get out of jail free card," he read slowly. "Use this if you screw up."

"You're a guy," she said, shrugging.

"Better not waste this one." He chuckled as he turned the pages. "Let's see here… one free question, one free action movie, one free song, one embarrassing story, one cooking lesson, one free secret, and…"

He pointed to the last page. It was blank.

"Carte Blanche, " she explained. "Anything you want…within reason."

"What kind of person do you think I am?"

"A guy," she said, grinning.

"You two are oftly chummy over there," Merlin said. "Anything you'd like to share with the rest of the class? Like, I don't know, the obvious change in your rela—ow!"

"What an interesting gift," Morgana said, removing her foot from Merlin's.

"I love it," Arthur said, closing the book and flipping it over. "You really did put a bow on yourself, didn't you? It's the gift that keeps on giving."

"Until you use all the coupons," Gwen added. "And there's an expiration date. Can only be used for the next three months."

"Smart girl," Arthur said.

He placed the book on top of the painting and looked around the table.

"Thank you, guys, " Arthur said softly. "I'm incredibly lucky to have all of you in my life. This is… really great. And I'm sure…my mom…would be happy to see this too. I've spent all these years punishing myself for something that was completely out of my control. And…I wouldn't have been able to move on without your help."

He entwined his fingers with Gwen's under the table and squeezed.

"Thank you."

She smiled at him, holding his gaze.

"It was really—"

Her phone started ringing in her pocket, ruining the moment.

"I should…I'll be right back," she said. "In the meantime, help yourselves to some cake."

She pulled out her phone and walked away from the table, into the foyer.

"Hello?"

"Get in the car," said the distorted voice on the line.

"Excuse me?"

"Get in the car," he repeated. "Or I shoot all of them. I'll make sure to shoot the kid first."

"You expect me to believe that? This place has top of the line security. There's no way you could get past it. You're clearly bluffing."

"You're standing in the foyer," the voice said. "Your friends are sitting in the dining room next to the kitchen eating cake. The model is wiping her face with a napkin."

She froze.

"You've got the wrong girl," she whispered. "I'm nobody."

"Just get in the fucking car." He was angry now and his voice, though distorted, made her shiver. "Do you need a demonstration?"

"Alright." Her hands and voice were shaking. "If you promise you won't hurt them, I'll…do whatever you say."

"Make it quick."

He hung up.

Think fast. Think fast.

"Oh gosh!" she exclaimed as she walked towards the kitchen. "I forgot to make ice cream…so silly of me."

"It's alright," Arthur said, turning towards her. "The cake is delicious on its own—"

"I'd like some ice cream," Mordred said, raising his hand.

_I'll make sure to shoot the kid first. _

"It's settled," she said, hurrying over to the kitchen. "That was Charles on the phone. I told him to remind me in case I forgot about the ice cream. He's volunteered to take me to the store. I'll only be a minute."

"Of course he offered," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "He'd offer to let you step on his back if you asked him."

"Alright. Cool. Good. Fantastic."

"Are you alright?"

Arthur was looking at her, concern written all over his face.

She wanted to say that it wasn't all right. There was a distinct possibility that she may never come back alive, that she'd never see him again.

"I'm fine," she said, laughing nervously. "I'm just going to drop by Mr. Friendly's. It's the best ice cream in town!"

"Never heard of it," said Merlin. "Is it new?"

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

"No," she told him. "It's been here forever. I've just got to go before they close."

Arthur looked her in the eyes again. "You sure you don't want someone to come with you?"

"I'm sure," she said, her voice much harsher than she intended. "Goodbye, Arthur."

She wished she could say something else…_do_ something else. But she was certain they were watching her and she didn't want to put any of them in danger.

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. And there she stood for a few moments, frozen with fear.

_I'll make sure to shoot the kid first. _

With enormous determination, she lifted her shaking hands, opened the door, and closed it behind her.

The moment she did, someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a wet towel to her face.

She screamed and struggled with all her might, but it was no use. The arms restraining her were too strong and the cloth was too thick. Her consciousness began to slip away. Her arms grew lax and her eyelids were suddenly too heavy to keep up.

Everything went black.

* * *

I'm bad, I know. Things were getting a bit too fluffy for me. I really wish there were a way to have a tertiary genre. If it were possible I'd make this story Romance/Drama/Humor. The last 8 chapters definitely err more on the dramatic side for sure (still trying to figure out if I want 20 or 25 chapters).

Please review and let me know what you think. It always brightens up my day when people leave comments!

-Hime

**:: This chapter is inspired by the song "You Could be Happy" by Snow Patrol ::**


	13. Love You Madly

**Love You Madly**

Gwen's opened her eyes, slowly. Everything was blurry. Within a few seconds her brain registered the sheets of plastic wrapped tightly around her eyes. She tried to move her hands but soon realized that they were handcuffed to the back of the chair.

Her mouth, however, was completely unbound.

"Hey! Whoever you are, let me out of here now!"

Her voice echoed against the walls and complete silence followed. Through her blurry vision, she could discern that she was completely alone.

Great. Just great.

She was scared. Her _Victims no More!_ class hadn't covered being kidnapped on your significant other's birthday party. Not like the class had done her much good in the past. If she got out of this place alive, she was going to have some words with her former instructor.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

As if on cue, the door on the far end of the room opened, revealing a tall blurry figure.

"My, my," said the figure. The voice was cool and feminine and not at all familiar. "You're quite the screamer."

"I don't know what you think you're trying to achieve here," Gwen seethed as the blurry figure approached her. "Arthur doesn't even know where I am. He's not going to come for me."

The woman laughed. The sound was empty and sent a pronounced chill down Gwen's spine.

"My dear girl," she said, perching herself on the table, "you have no idea… do you?"

Gwen thought it quite rich that this lady was being so patronizing. She _had _kidnapped her after all… what was she playing at?

"You, my dear," the woman said, reaching out to stroke Gwen's hair, "you are the key to the Pendragons' downfall."

Gwen recoiled from her touch. "You're insane," she whispered. "I'm just a nanny. You've got the wrong girl."

"One day, you'll learn everything," the woman said, hopping off the desk. "But that is not my purpose for today. I want to make Arthur suffer a little longer from your absence."

Gwen felt a sudden anger surging through her veins. Suffer? Arthur didn't deserve to suffer any longer. He'd been through enough tragedies in his life. Surely this woman was aware of that.

"What has Arthur done to you?"

The woman walked behind Gwen, placing her hands on the back of the metal chair and leaning in close.

"The Pendragons took everything from me," the woman hissed. "If you knew even half of the story, Guinevere, you'd probably hate them even more than I do. My dear…you owe every misfortune to the Pendragon family. Their debt to you can never be repaid."

"You've got the wrong girl," Gwen said. "I'd never met the Pendragons up until a few months ago. What you're saying… just can't be true."

"I have the right girl," the woman insisted. "You're Guinevere Leodegrance, daughter of Tom and Lily. I knew your mother. She was a good person, whom I loved very much."

"Don't use my mother as an excuse!" Gwen cried. "She would have never supported this. She wouldn't have wanted to see anyone in pain, let alone have her daughter kidnapped. You're doing this for yourself."

"Poor girl," the woman said, clucking her tongue. She stood up, straightened her clothes and turned to face her. "Sooner or later, you're going to help me destroy the Pendragons. It's only a matter of time."

"You're wrong," Gwen whispered as the woman walked away.

"Mal," said the woman, ignoring Gwen, "keep an eye on her. You are not to harm her, you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," the guard responded.

The woman left the room, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor.

Gwen struggled against her handcuffs, but it was no use. She was stuck.

"I wouldn't try to get out of those," said the guard. "You're only going to hurt yourself."

Gwen gave an arid laugh. "Why do you care if I get hurt? You seemed to be perfectly fine with abducting me."

"Guinevere—"

"You don't get to call me that!" she yelled. "Only Arthur…Arthur's the only person who gets to call me that. You don't know anything about me and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Very well," Mal said, turning away from her.

Gwen sunk down in her chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. Never in her life had she felt so angry and frustrated. Who did these people think they were? Did they think they could just take her against her will? Did they honestly believe she would betray Arthur?

She was tired of being the damsel in distress, tired of people trying to use her against Arthur.

She was done being passive—it was time to fight back.

* * *

"Daddy," Mordred whined, "Where's the ice cream?"

Arthur ruffled his son's hair. "We have to wait for Guinevere."

"Arthur," Morgana said, casting him a worried glance, "it's been an hour. Maybe we should go look for her."

Arthur knew something was wrong. He'd felt it when she rushed out suddenly, had seen the flash of fear in her eyes as she walked away. He thought he was being paranoid, that maybe the bad memories of this day had clouded his perceptions.

She had to be safe; the alternative was too hard for him to bear.

"She said she went to Mr. Friendly's," Merlin mused. "I thought that place had gone out of business."

"Maybe that's what's taking her so long," said Morgana. "Maybe she's looking for another place to get the ice cream?"

"She hasn't returned her calls," Arthur said. "Guinevere always picks up her phone. Why wouldn't she answer, or call to let us know she was having trouble?"

"Mr. Friendly's," Merlin muttered. "Mr. Friendly's…"

"What are you going on about over there, Merlin?"

"I think… she was trying to tell us something, Arthur," he said. "I just don't know what."

"Mr. Friendly's means nothing to me," Arthur said. "Why would she use a code that no one can understand—"

"I've got it!" Merlin exclaimed. "Mr. Friendly… he was a character on LOST."

"Merlin," said Morgana, "I doubt now's the time to talk about a disappointing television show."

"I'll ignore your insult for now," Merlin said, glaring at her. "Mr. Friendly was a character on LOST who… kidnapped one of the castaways. I think… she was trying to tell us…"

"Oh my god," Morgana said, standing up. "We need to call the police!"

"No," Arthur said, suddenly. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"They won't prioritize the case," Arthur said, his voice hollow. "I need to find out who did this first, then we'll contact the police."

"Arthur, don't be an idiot!" Morgana said rushing over to him. "This isn't some silly revenge kick! Gwen's in danger! We've got to get some help!"

"You don't think I know that!" Arthur yelled. "You don't think I'm worried about her? I'm out of my mind with worry! I don't know what I'll do if anything happens to her. But I need to figure this out myself. Getting the police involved now will only slow me down."

Merlin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We'll give you any help you need to bring her back, Arthur."

Morgana sighed. "I think this is stupid, arrogant, idiotic, and brash. But I'll help."

Mordred grasped his father's hand and squeezed tightly. "Bring her home, daddy," he said, his eyes wide and earnest.

Arthur lifted his son into his arms and kissed his forehead. "I will bring her back. Mordred. Don't you worry."

He clutched his son tighter to his chest trying not to fall apart at the seams. He had to stay strong for his son and for Guinevere. He couldn't allow himself to give in to his fear and rage.

He looked up, locking eyes with Merlin, then Morgana.

"Let's get her back."

* * *

Gwen watched as Mal gingerly placed a metal plate in front of her. He stepped back and faced her expectantly.

Gwen raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you might be hungry," said he said quietly.

"That's… very kind of you," she said slowly, as if he were a child, "but I can't eat it. I can neither see nor use my hands."

"Oh."

He knelt down beside her chair.

"I made you a turkey sandwich…and some tomato soup," he told her. "It's really quite good… I could… feed it to you if you like."

"I already ate," she said, turning her nose up at the food. "I was actually in the middle of a birthday dinner when you all snatched me up. I'd really like to get back to that."

"I can't do that, Gwen," he said, shaking his head. "Please try to understand—"

"Understand?" Gwen laughed aridly. "There is nothing _to_ understand. I want to go home. You have no right to keep me here!"

"We're not going to hurt you, Gwen," he said. "You're too important to us."

He placed his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and she flinched away from his touch.

"You're afraid of me," he said, sounding surprised.

"I don't know you," she said. "You've tied me up in this room and bound my eyes. Forgive me if I don't trust you."

"I would never hurt you, Gwen," he said gently.

Something about Mal's silhouette seemed familiar to her. Though his features were blurry, she could make out his blond hair and stubble.

"Do I… know you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But I know you, Gwen. And I…"

He stopped.

"You…what?"

"You remind me so much of _her_," he said after a few long moments. "She was…truly beautiful, your mother."

Gwen could feel the anger rising from the pits of her stomach.

"All of you speak as if you knew her!" Gwen yelled. "She was _my_ mother. If you were of any importance to her, she would have mentioned you. Don't you dare bring my mother into whatever sinister game you're playing!"

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she yelled. The loss of her mother was still a wide-open and sensitive wound.

"Your mother had an entirely different life before she had you," Mal said. "She was an heiress. But she always made sure to look out for people like me."

"You're crazy," Gwen whispered. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do," Mal said, leaning against the table. "I was the family cleaning boy. She never let anyone mistreat me. She would say, 'Kindness isn't a virtue it's'—"

"A necessity," Gwen finished, astonished. "How could you possibly…"

"I loved her," Mal said. "I was young, no older than thirteen, but I loved her dearly. She used to perch herself on a tree branch in the garden clutching impossibly large books, and I could see her from the window. She had long brown hair, much like yours, bright brown eyes that were always full of light, and caramel skin. Impossibly beautiful, she was."

Mal clenched his fists at his sides. "And then one day… that branch broke, and Miss Lily fell into the arms of that charlatan maintenance man..."

_Your mother fell right into my arms…and into my life… like an angel from the heavens._

"No…" Gwen said. "You're lying… I've heard this story before. My mother was a maid, not an heiress. She _was_ sitting in the tree…. But it happened in the park, not her own garden."

"I remember it as if it were yesterday… it was the reason Miss Lily was disowned. She married that scoundrel, had his child, and was shunned from the household. I never saw her again… "

Gwen's head was reeling from the influx of information. She knew better than to trust the words of her captor. He could very well be feeding her lies, spinning some sort of story to turn her against Arthur.

"Mal…" she pleaded, allowing his name to pass through her lips for the first time. "My mother died years ago. I know it's difficult to let her go, but she wouldn't have wanted you to torture yourself this way. I know you don't want to do this; you don't seem like a bad guy. "

To her surprise, Mal leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. She inhaled his scent deeply. It was familiar, so infuriatingly familiar.

"I've long since let go of Lily," Mal said, pressing his forehead to hers. "But the universe had other plans for me and I crossed paths with her daughter, every bit as lovely and kind."

She felt his fingers at the back of her head untie the plastic around her eyes.

"I laid eyes on you day after day and, even though we didn't speak much, I grew to love you as I loved her," he said.

The plastic fell down Gwen's shoulders in ribbons, landing in a pool by her feet. Her captor walked around to face her. She gasped.

"Charlie?"

* * *

Vivian awoke to a large thumping sound against her desk. She arose abruptly, hitting her head against the back of her desk chair.

"Oh geez! I didn't mean to startle you!"

Leon stood over her, looking apologetic. She had been totally prepared to chew out whoever had disturbed her beauty sleep, but the sight of Leon and his impossibly tousled hair only elicited a smile.

"I…brought you coffee," Leon said, handing her a Styrofoam cup. "I know you have quite a bit of work on your hands this evening."

Vivian felt an odd stirring in her chest as she accepted the cup. "Um… thank you."

"I got French Vanilla," he added, "I figured you like it since you pour vanilla creamer into your coffee every morning."

"You've been watching me, have you?" Vivian smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think I had a stalker on my hands, Smallville."

Leon choked on his coffee.

"I'm not stalking you," he said, regaining his composure. "I just…I realized… I had a good time last week, even though you spilled coffee on me. Guess I just wanted an excuse to talk to you again."

There it was again, that strange feeling in her heart. She wasn't used to being treated like this. Men never bought her coffee, not even the morning after. Men never wanted to engage her in conversation either. They thought her incredibly droll or insipid.

She looked up at him warmly, with surprising ease. "That's just about the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me, Leon."

The sincerity in her voice threw him for a loop, a beautiful vulnerability he was sure she didn't express often.

"No, problem." Leon cleared his throat, in an attempt to clear the strange air between them. "By the way, Arthur just called… he says Gwen has gone missing. He's a total wreck; I don't think I've seen him this way for a long while."

This time Vivian choked on her coffee.

"He's asked me to keep watch for her in case she shows up at the office," Leon said.

"Mhmm," Vivian responded, diverting her eyes. "I'll keep an eye out as well."

She reached into her purse and fumbled for her phone, slipping it beneath her desk and texting frantically.

Leon gave her an odd look. "You're not… sexting someone are you?"

Vivian had enough composure to roll her eyes. "Can you blame me if I want to send a text away from prying eyes."

Leon raised his hands in defense. "Hey, not trying to pick a fight with you, Viv. Trying my best to be civil. "

Vivian pressed send and slipped the phone back into her pocket. She paused for a moment, before smoothing down her skirt.

"I know, Leon," she replied, "I'm working on the whole civil thing. It'll take a while, so you're going to have to be patient with me."

Leon placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're doing just fine, Viv. I'm sorry I caught you at such a bad time. I just figured, if I'm going to be manning the fort for Arthur, I might as well seek out company."

Her eyes slowly moved to his hand, questioningly. He quickly removed his hand and cleared his throat again. She missed the warmth immediately.

"Ah, sorry," Leon said, placing his hands in his pockets. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Oh, he was making her uncomfortable all right. But not at all the way he thought he was.

Her phone went off in her bag, causing her to jump.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Leon asked, concern in his eyes. "You're acting awfully cagey."

She ignored him, peering down at her phone.

_Keep him occupied._

"Since we're both going to be here for a while," Vivian said, zipping up her purse. "Why don't we order some food and work in Nimueh's office?"

Leon laughed. "If someone told me a year ago that Vivian Carlyle would request a work date, I wouldn't have believed it. But you know… I'm still not… you're still not…"

Standing in front of him, she felt so small against his 6'4 frame. Yet, she pressed her hand against his chest, boldly looking up into his eyes.

"We don't have to _be _anything," she said, turning on the façade. "We're just friends having a bit of fun. Nothing wrong with that."

She stood on her tiptoes, in an attempt to kiss him on the lips, but thought better of it. Her lips connected with his cheek instead, lingering for just a moment longer than was necessary. She slid her arm down his chest as her heels touched the floor.

She tried to move away, but she felt strong hands pull her back. Her chest collided with his and her lips soon followed. His hand slid and caressed the skin beneath the back of her button down shirt. The kiss was sweet, but she could feel a reservoir of longing threatening to burst through.

She hated this. Not the kiss. Leon was an amazing kisser. His lips somehow managed to remain gentle yet firm against hers, allowing only the tip of his tongue to slip through. But this… this was not what she wanted to him to do. Not now. She wanted the dinner and the movies, the chocolate and flowers, love and devotion. She hadn't realized it before, when she'd had her eye on the Pendragon fortune.

She gasped as his hand inched higher up her back.

"Not here," she whispered against his lips. She pulled away, beckoning him to an empty office down the hall.

It was a dance she always did, sometimes out of boredom, sometimes to get what she wanted.

Hours later, she lay naked, draped across his chest, his arms encircling her waist. There was a deep shame and the pit of her stomach that she hadn't expected.

She slowly peeled herself from his body, reaching for her clothes robotically. He sat up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, his palms pressing against her flat stomach.

"How about that dinner," he said, pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck.

She arched in his arms, and warmth spread through her body like wildfire.

"I should go," she gasped. "I –"

He pulled her closer and she melted against his back. "Don't you dare whisper some bullshit about how _that_ didn't mean anything."

That wasn't the problem. It had meant _too much_.

"It did but—"

"Stay."

It was a request tinged with command. She closed her eyes, hating herself for everything, wishing she hadn't corrupted their relationship before it had even begun.

He took her silence as affirmation, coaxing her to the floor. She smiled as her lips collided with his for the umpteenth time.

There was plenty of time to hate herself later. For now, she'd relish the moment before everything fell apart.

* * *

Arthur pounded the table in frustration. It had been hours since Gwen had disappeared and he'd heard nothing from her. He'd sent out a search party of his security team to search for her to no avail.

He felt warm arms wrap around his shoulders and a weight against his shoulder.

"Hey," Morgana said. "How you holding up?"

"How do you think," he answered, sighing. "What if… what if they've done something to her, Morgana? What if they've…"

"Shh," Morgana said, "It's not productive to think that way. I think your captives want something from you in exchange for Gwen. I guess we just have to wait for them to contact you."

"The waiting's the worst part," he said, leaning into her embrace. "Gosh, Morgana, I can't stand to lose her. Just this morning, we were happy. I could feel it. I haven't felt that way in years. I can't go back to that. I can't…imagine my world without her."

"You love her," Morgana said, warmly.

Arthur froze. Love? He hadn't loved anyone in years. He'd turned that off years ago, devoting all his love to his son, fueling all his energy in his safety and wellbeing. He only allowed himself fleeting thoughts of sexual attraction.

He thought of Gwen, beautiful Gwen, with her radiant smile and kind eyes. He remembered the taste of her soft lips and the feel of her curves against his back. Guinevere in her red dress and blue hair; Guinevere rescuing his son, Guinevere welcoming him home on his birthday. Guinevere, Guinevere, Guinevere.

"I…love her," Arthur said slowly. "I love Guinevere."

"It's about time you realized it," Morgana said, moving to stand at his side. "The way you look at her, Arthur, you'd think she was a goddess."

"That obvious, huh?" he said, smiling for the first time in hours.

"Yep," Morgana said without pause. "I mean she's an easy girl to love, that Guinevere. The fact that she's willing to put up with you speaks volumes."

He shoved her playfully.

"I am happy for you, Arthur," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "I give you a lot of crap, but you really are an extraordinary guy who deserves to be happy."

Her words threw him for a loop. Arthur knew Morgana was a softie at heart, but she rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, even with him.

Arthur gestured towards Merlin, who was currently slumped over on the couch with Mordred's head in his lap.

"And how are you dealing with the… Merlin situation," Arthur said, his voice hesitant.

Morgana gave a heavy sigh and collapsed into the chair next to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

"God, Arthur, I don't even know," she admitted. "I've never fallen out of love with him. I thought I had… but what I feel for him is far too strong. It's always been there, since we were kids. I was afraid of it…I ran away from it. And now that I'm ready to face it…I can't."

She grabbed a fist full of his shirt in her palm, clinging to him. "I would never do anything to jeopardize what Freya and Merlin have. I'm…glad he found someone. But part of me, the part of me I loathe, wants him so desperately. Instead of distancing myself I engulf myself in his presence. Does that make me crazy?"

"I don't think so," Arthur said, hugging her closely and smoothing her hair with his hand. "It's not that easy to simply forget a love that deep. And I don't think Merlin… has forgotten either. But… he just can't. He loves Freya too and would never betray her."

Morgana sighed. "We always manage to get involved in the most fucked up triangles, don't we?"

"We'll get through this," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "We may come out the other side with a few scrapes and bruises, but we _will_ get through this."

The sound of Arthur's phone interrupted their musings. Arthur released Morgana and reached for the offending object.

_Unknown number._

He gestured to Morgana, who arose promptly in search of her computer.

"Hello?"

"Pendragon."

"Where is she?" Arthur hissed. "If you laid a single hand on her head… I'll kill you."

"It's Lance."

"Lancelot," Arthur said, locking eyes with Morgana. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Freya told me Gwen was missing," he said, his hoarse voice revealing his exhaustion. "I…I think I know where she might be."

"What do you mean… how could you possibly know where she is?"

"That is of no consequence," Lance said. "If my suspicions are correct, she may be in more danger than she knows. I believe we can put our differences aside to save the one thing we both hold dear."

Arthur remained silent for a moment. He didn't trust Lancelot as far as he could throw him. It went beyond jealousy; there was just something about the guy that rubbed him the wrong way. And yet…

"I agree," Arthur said, sighing. "As much as I don't like it, I might actually need your help to find her. How soon can you get here?"

"I'm outside," Lance said.

Arthur ended the call, placing his phone in his pocket. He turned towards Morgana.

"Please look after Mordred," he said.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Morgana said. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Be careful."

"I will."

He opened the door, feeling the cold air seep through his clothing. His eyes found Lance, leaning against his black convertible. He looked tired and disheveled, in contrast to his usual flawless appearance.

The two men locked eyes for a moment, feeling camaraderie for the first time.

"Shall we?"

* * *

"Charlie…" she said, still not believing her eyes. "But why?"

"I've already told you why," he said. "I'm just trying to protect you, Guinevere."

"You're crazy…"

His fist collided with the table and Guinevere flinched.

"I'm not crazy!"

"This entire time… you've been watching Arthur and me. Oh god… you got this job just so you could spy on me. You had access to the house…"

"I never invaded your privacy," he said, sounding on edge. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Gwen struggled again to free her hands from the cuffs, to no avail.

"Please let me go," she said, collapsing against the back of the chair. "Please… I just want to go home."

"I'm afraid you can't do that, Gwen," Mal said. "You're never going home if I have something to say about it."

"You can't just keep me locked up here forever!"

"I don't plan on keeping you locked up," he said calmly. "I plan on making sure that bastard never lays his hands on you again."

He leaned forward touching her cheek with his hand. "A girl like you… is too precious." His hand slid to her shoulder. "Beautiful." He moved his hand further down to the swell of her chest. "Perfect."

"Get your hands off of me!" she screamed, flinching away from his touch.

"I only want what's best for you, Guinevere," he said, eyes wide. "Arthur will only bring you pain. I don't want that for you."

"Charlie—"

"My name is Maleagant."

"_Charlie_…I don't understand," Gwen said, hanging her head. "You were always so nice and kind to me. I never thought you'd be capable of something like this."

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"From what? Arthur? What you've done today far outweighs anything Arthur could possibly do to me."

"The Pendragons stole everything from you, Guinevere," Mal said softly. "And they will continue to steal everything from you until you have nothing left."

"What do you mean they stole everything from me?" Guinevere asked. "Your boss said that before. I don't understand. I never had anything to begin with. I've only ever had my family. Yes, I've lost them, but the Pendragons aren't responsible for that."

"It's not my place to tell you," he said, clenching his fists. "But I will say this… nothing in your life…has been an accident. Someone has always been pulling the strings. And your Arthur…he's not as innocent as you think."

"Don't you dare speak of him that way," Gwen seethed. "He's twice the man you could ever hope to be."

"This is just a passing fancy for him, Gwen," Mal said. "He only wants to possess you, completely. And when he does, he'll leave you. This is what Pendragons do. They're evil, Gwen. They're pure evil—"

"Stop," Guinevere said. "I am no Patty Hearst. If this is some ploy to get me to turn on Arthur, you're wasting your time. I trust him more than any man I've met. No matter what you say… my feelings for him will never fade."

"I admire your loyalty, Gwen," Mal said, shaking his head. "But it is blind… and foolish."

"Then let me be a fool," Gwen said, leaning back against the chair.

She pulled against her chains again, wincing as the metal bit against her skin.

"Stop that! You're hurting yourself," Mal said, concern filling his eyes.

Gwen stared at him for a moment, the cogs turning in her head.

She pulled again, biting her lip as the metal cut into her skin.

"What are you doing? STOP!"

"You love me?"

She pulled again, biting back a scream.

"STOP IT!"

"Then let me go!"

"I CAN'T!"

She pulled again, drawing blood. "Let me go!"

"Alright!"

Gwen looked up at him wide eyes.

"I can't let you go," he said, "But I can certainly make it harder for you to injure yourself."

Gwen sighed as he tied the plastic around her hands, knotting it tightly around the metal bars of the chair. A few moments later, she heard the satisfying clang of the metal handcuffs hitting the floor.

Mal knelt down and began unlocking the cuffs around her legs. This time Gwen smirked as the metal loosened around her ankles.

Before Mal realized his mistake, Gwen delivered a swift kick to his head with all the strength she could muster. He fell backwards with a resounding thud, his body immobile.

Gwen wasted no time in untying the knots that restrained her. As she suspected, Mal had been very lenient after seeing her chaffed wrists.

Her plan had cost her dearly. She had two large gashes around her wrists. She bit her lips to keep from crying out in pain.

She knelt over Mal's still body and carefully retrieved a set of silver keys from his pocket. She hesitated for a moment before ripping two large pieces of his black t-shirt and wrapping them around her wrists to slow the bleeding.

Gwen stared at his face for a few long moments. She was still having trouble wrapping her head around everything she had learned over the last few hours. Mal was a little unhinged, yes, but he'd sounded sincere in his hopes to save her. He clearly knew many things that she didn't. She was willing to believe that much. And maybe…just maybe… the Pendragons had some skeletons in the closet she'd yet to discover.

Gwen shook her head before racing to the door. Just a few hours and she was already sympathizing with her captor. She had to get herself out of there.

She fumbled with the keys for a few minutes before hearing the satisfying _click_of the door unlocking. She flung the door open and paused for a moment, observing her surroundings.

Gwen blanched immediately.

She was standing in a giant warehouse. Tiny dim lightbulbs swung back and forth eerily from the ceiling. Rows and rows of old boxes were stacked in metal carriers littered with dust.

She took felt knot in her stomach. This place… looked like it hadn't been touched in years. If Arthur was looking for her… it was unlikely he'd ever find her here.

Feeling hopeful, she reached into her pocket for her phone. A black screen stared back at her. Great. Just great.

* * *

Arthur gripped the leather handle of the car door as Lance raced down the freeway.

"I know you want to ask me something," Lance said, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"You're not the gallant prince Gwen thinks you are," Arthur said, turning towards Lance. "I've always known it. At first I thought it was misplaced jealousy. But I always believed there was something off about you. Something insincere. I always thought it was possible… that you were using her to get to me."

"You're every bit as arrogant as I thought you were." Lance took a sharp turn, causing Arthur's head to collide with the window. "I love Guinevere more than you will ever understand. From the moment I met her… I knew she was different. Yes, I had an agenda. Our meeting was planned. I never expected I'd fall for her so suddenly."

"You don't deserve her," Arthur seethed.

"I agree, Pendragon." Lance chuckled. "I couldn't possibly agree with you more."

Arthur was taken aback. He had not expected Lance to be this self-deprecating. What happened to the arrogant pop star he'd come to loathe?

"I'm not proud of what I've done. I am deeply ashamed," Lance said sighing. "I was desperate. A woman promised me she'd get my sister on a clinical trial to treat her cancer. I was a fool and fell for it. There was no trial. She knew Freya was going to die and let me keep believing there was hope."

"Freya," Arthur muttered. "Merlin's Freya?"

Lancelot nodded. "The very same. I was asked to befriend and seduce Guinevere and turn her away from the Pendragon family. When I failed at my task, I was given a folder to deliver to her, with damning evidence against your family. Someone has a vendetta against you, Arthur. And they need Guinevere to fulfill it."

"What evidence?"

"I came to help you find Guinevere," Lance said. "Beyond that, I refuse to involve myself in this anymore. I owe no debt to you. I owe a debt to Guinevere. I hope she never finds out what's in the file. For her sake, as well as yours."

"Miserable bastard," Arthur hissed.

"We need to hurry," Lancelot said, ignoring the insult.

"What is it that you're not telling me?"

"My boss… she sent someone to keep an eye on Gwen. She believed this person would never hurt Guinevere, but I fear she greatly underestimated his obsession with her. He's a couple cards short of a full deck, that Mal."

"Mal… who is Mal?"

"You know him as Charlie," Lance said.

"Charlie?" Arthur said incredulously. "You can't be serious. That boy doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

"You should be more careful about who you let in your home. His records were falsified. He was obsessed with Lily Leodegrance and took to stalking her on occasion. She put out a restraining order on him when her son, Elyan was born."

"Oh god…" Arthur said. "What if he… oh I swear to God, if he lays a hand on her I will end his life."

"If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself," Lance said, gripping the steering wheel. "I never thought they would try to kidnap her. I know that woman doesn't want to see Gwen hurt, but if she was stupid enough to leave her alone with that man…"

"Who is this woman you keep talking about?"

"I never met her. We only communicated through cell phone and mail. I've tried to trace the calls and the letters to no avail. I heard her voice only once, when the voice masking technology was malfunctioning. That's how I figured out it was a woman orchestrating everything."

Arthur snorted. "You're more of an idiot than I thought, Lancelot."

"Are you saying you wouldn't do anything to protect the one's you love?"

"That's not what I'm—"

"My sister is the only thing that mattered to me," Lance continued. "Everything went out the window as soon as she was diagnosed. I didn't care what kind of person I became. I… just wanted her to be safe. I wanted her to live."

Arthur's eyes softened. "I'm…sorry."

"We're here."

Lance had parked in front of a rather outdated warehouse. Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"This was the drop off point for the files. I came here once a week for several months. I'm almost certain they're keeping her here."

Arthur hesitated for a moment before quickly undoing his seatbelt and exiting the car.

"Before we go in there, I want to make one thing perfectly clear," Arthur said, glaring at Lance. "I understand why you did what you did and I don't doubt that you're in love with Gwen. I can see it in your eyes. I can never fully understand the pain you're experiencing."

In a few easy strides he stood mere inches from Lance, his gaze unwavering.

"But you had better stay away," Arthur spat. "I don't care how you do it. I don't want to see you around her. If I ever find out that you tried to seek her out, I will tell her everything."

"All do respect, Pendragon," Lance said. "I don't respond to threats."

A high pitched scream cut the tension between them.

"That was…"

"GUINEVERE!" Arthur yelled.

* * *

Gwen pressed her back against a pile of boxes, taking a moment to catch her breath. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. Her feet were aching and she was beginning to feel a bit light headed from the blood loss.

"If you come back to me," Mal voice echoed through the warehouse. "I promise I won't hurt you. In fact, I'll take you away from here. Somewhere where no one will be able to hurt you."

Gwen felt the panic run through her veins like wildfire. She'd miscalculated; Mal had woken up sooner than she thought.

"You can't run from me forever," he added, his voice harder. "If you come out now, I won't punish you for your behavior."

She remained still, pressing her back even closer to the boxes. Hiding was only a temporary plan. It would only be a matter of time before he found her. Even if she did locate the exit, she doubted there would be an easy escape route from the warehouse. This game of cat and mouse was only prolonging the inevitable.

Gwen emerged from her hiding spot, her heart racing.

"I knew you'd make the right decision."

Mal stood before her, his face a bloodied mess.

"You broke my nose," he added. "How are you going to repay me for that?"

"I don't owe you anything,' Gwen hissed.

Mal advanced upon her until her back was pressed hard against a tower of cardboard boxes. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, causing her to scream in pain.

"Go ahead," she hissed, fighting back tears. "Kill me."

She flinched as he traced the column of her neck with his hand. He paused for a moment, before tilting her chin with his index finger.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said. "I love you, Guinevere. I only want what's best for you. That's why I'm going to take you away from all of this. We can fly somewhere, anywhere you want. We'll start a family and leave all of this behind."

"I would rather die," she spat back.

He pushed her against the boxes causing the column to tremble a bit. Gwen glanced upward for a moment, the cogs turning in her head.

"I'm trying to save you!" he shouted. "Why can't you see that I just want the best for you?"

Gwen took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"You're right," she said.

He stared at her, confusion dancing across his face.

"You're… you're just trying to protect me," she said. "I think I understand now."

She slipped out of his grasp and maneuvered around him, reversing their positions.

"Thank you," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Thank you for looking out for me."

She leaned in close so that her lips were nearly touching his ear. His body stiffened under her fingers.

"But I can take care of myself," she whispered.

Before he had time to react, she used her remaining strength to shove him into the wavering column of boxes. His body hit the base of the tower, causing it to topple over. Gwen quickly rolled out of harms way as the boxes collapsed on top of him.

As she pulled herself up, she could feel her vision blurring. She stumbled, trying in vain to remain balanced on her feet. A voice screamed her name as a pool of light streamed into the building. Footsteps echoed across the hard ground, growing louder with each passing second.

As her feet finally gave way, she felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her from behind, coaxing her into darkness.

* * *

"You really should get some sleep, Arthur."

Arthur leaned back against his headboard. He'd been sitting in the same position for nearly three hours, standing vigil over Gwen.

"I can't sleep," he said. "She's only woken up once since we got back. I need to make sure she's okay."

His eyes returned to her sleeping form beside him.

Merlin sighed. "I've already checked her vitals. She may have lost a lot of blood, but she's not in any immediate danger. She should just take it easy for the next few days."

Arthur clenched his fist in response. "She's fine now… but what about the next time? These people, whoever they are, mean business. I can't believe they were this close to her this entire time. I need to protect her."

Merlin chuckled. "From what you told me, she doing a pretty good job of that herself."

"Just when I think I have her figured out, she surprises me." Arthur shook his head. "I have no doubt that she can handle herself. I just… don't want to lose her, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes steeled at his words. "I understand," he said. "Just…take it easy, okay? We both know how fond you are of guilt tripping yourself. I don't want to see you go down that road."

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

Merlin cocked an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Merlin," Arthur said, "you're living in the apartment of your ex-girlfriend while your current girlfriend is in the hospital—"

"To be closer to Freya if something were to happen!"

"Why didn't you ask if you could stay here, then?"

"I… well… because…"

Arthur shook his head as Merlin grew slightly pink, stumbling over his words.

"Morgana, she…well… just being around her raises my spirits somehow. In a way that being around you doesn't," Merlin said finally.

"I'm hurt," Arthur said, placing his hand over his heart. "You've replaced me with a stuck up, loudmouthed, spoiled brat. I thought we were more than that, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you'll live."

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking over his words carefully before speaking. "Merlin…are you still in love with my sister?"

A very pregnant pause followed his question. Merlin's eyes widened slightly as he processed Arthur's words. He blinked once, then again. His fingers fiddled with cuffs of his button down shirt.

"I…"

"Are you still in love with her?"

Merlin exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "What I feel about your sister… what I have always felt… cannot be contained in a simple word. She broke me, Arthur. Ruthlessly. She smashed my heart into a million pieces and, one by one, Freya put them back together again. I love _Freya_. She's kind, beautiful, and good and, for some reason, she loves me. I don't feel like I have to measure up to anything when I'm with her. "

"I didn't mean to question your love for Freya… I only wanted to—"

"It's complicated," Merlin said. "What I feel for Morgana…is painful. It's not pure love, no. It's anger, humiliation, guilt, and adoration all wrapped up into 'love'. I look at her and my heart swells and breaks at the same time. She's frustrating, and beautiful, and clever, and fucked up, and confusing as all get out, but she grounds me, challenges me, completes me more than anyone."

Merlin gave Arthur an incredibly pained look. "I know I should stay away from her, given our history, but I can't. The energy between us has helped me cope with Freya's situation. Without her, I'm sure I'd be spiraling a lot faster than I am."

Arthur was shocked. It was the first time Merlin spoke about his feelings for Morgana in almost nine years. He knew his friend had been hurting, but they had made an unspoken pact to never speak of it. Merlin had chosen to hide his feelings behind a wall of smiles and jokes, but he was still in pain, even now.

And just like that, before Arthur had time to respond, Merlin hastily rebuilt the wall. The pained look vanished and the smile returned as he stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep. In the guest room," Merlin said, his eyes travelling to Gwen. "I feel like I'm intruding on something very private."

Arthur snorted. "That's never stopped you before."

"I respect Gwen," Merlin said. "I didn't respect Martha or Gina or Bethany."

"Not to mention Andrea, Christine, or Tiffany."

Merlin chuckled. "You're not the only one who actively tries to sabotage others' relationships. If I'm going to have to hang around a girl for the rest of my life, I better damn well like her."

"Selfish, Bastard."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

He walked to the threshold and paused for a moment, his back facing the bed.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely audible.

Arthur's eyes softened his friend exited the room. "No problem," he whispered.

He stared at the door for a few moments after Merlin left. There didn't seem to be a happy ending in sight for his sister and his best friend. Their relationship had always been a puzzle to him, a headache. Now it was just a huge clusterfuck that he had no idea how to solve.

Arthur shook his head, deciding to focus on something else. Like Merlin's complete inability to shut a door properly, for example. He swore Merlin left the door slightly open just to mess with him…

Gwen stirred beside him. She slowly opened her eyes as he turned to face her.

"Hey," he said, smiling, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit over the head with a bag of bricks," she moaned.

"I hate to see the other guy."

She sat up suddenly. "Oh my gosh… did I… is he…?"

"He's not dead."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You look disappointed."

"I really wanted to hurt him, Gwen," Arthur admitted. "I really want him to hurt him for what he did to you."

"Why didn't you?"

"The police showed up quicker than I expected."

Gwen giggled.

"So they forced you to be a knight in shining armor instead of a brute?"

"I think we both know who the brute is between the two of us," Arthur scoffed. "Since when you been this fearless hero?"

"I guess you never noticed before," she quipped. "I was getting tired of having to be saved."

He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I can't believe I could have lost you," he said, his voice ragged. "I was such an idiot. I knew something was wrong when you left, but I didn't listen to my gut."

"Hey, It wasn't your fault," she murmured. "Charlie was crazy… you had no way of knowing that. It was my decision to go, to protect Mordred. Charlie threatened to kill him."

"Oh god." Arthur took a deep breath. "He's sick."

"I don't think he would have really done it." Gwen winced as she sat up. "He just wanted to get me out of this house—away from you. I just didn't want to take that chance."

He lightly grasped her left wrist and lifted it to his lips.

"You're amazing, Guinevere," he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze.

"No, I'm not." She turned away from him to hide her blush. "I did what anyone would have done. And Charlie may have been off… but he didn't want to hurt me. I hurt myself so he'd let me go. He told me…"

She stopped herself. Tonight was not the night to delve into Charlie's story. At least, not until she had enough time to investigate. There was no use in worrying Arthur unnecessarily.

"He told you…what?"

"Nothing," she said. "I don't want to think about him any more."

"Don't worry," he said, pulling her gently into his lap. "Even if you are a fearless hero, I'll make damn sure he never comes near you again."

Gwen leaned back against him as he wrapped his hands around her waist. She closed her eyes, enveloped in the warm comfort of his body.

"I'm so hopelessly lost without you," he said, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. "I kept up a strong face for Mordred, but I was going mad inside. I just knew… I couldn't bear to lose you, Guinevere."

Guinevere smiled. "I'm glad to be home," she said.

Arthur paused for a moment, thinking over his words carefully. "You should stay here, then. With us."

Her eyes flew open at his words and she turned to face him. "Arthur, I …"

He tilted her head upwards and gently kissed her. The words died on her lips and she responded immediately, turning in his lap to face him and gently entangling her fingers in his hair. Every time their lips met, Gwen felt a strong warmth radiating through her body, spreading through her, giving her life.

A soft moan escaped her lips as he pulled away. For a few moments, she was both dizzy and disoriented, once reeling from the kiss. Her grip on his hair grew lax as her arms hung loosely around his shoulders, fingers entangled around the nape of his neck.

"Please," Arthur said, pressing his forehead against hers. "Don't leave. I know you're probably considering it, but—"

She pressed her finger against his lips. "Arthur, " she said, "I wasn't even thinking of leaving. Not now, anyway. I'd be doing exactly what Charlie wanted in the end. I love this place. I love being around you…the both of you. It would take much more than that to make me leave."

"I'm glad," Arthur said, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"Though you might want to kiss me again, just to be sure," she said with a wink.

Arthur chuckled as he closed the distance between their lips once more.

Little did they know, a certain precocious seven year old had been observing the entire scene from the crack in the doorway, his fists clenched in anger.

* * *

Hey guys! Long time no see! I hope you aren't angry with me :P life kind of got in the way. Not to mention how disenchanted I became with Merlin after season 3. However, I still like the characters and love writing, so I'll continue to do so until you get sick of me. I won't make any promises about updates, but I'll at least try to upload chapters much frequently than I have been doing. Unfortunately, that may mean that the chapters will be a little shorter than you're used to!

Thank you guys for all your support! I really appreciate it As always, please let me know what you think. Your comments really brighten my day!

3 Hime

**:: The title of this chapter comes from the CAKE song of the same name::**


	14. The Winner Takes it All

**The Winner Takes it All**

Gwen sat up in bed and stretched. She winced as the skin on her wrists began to ache and quickly rested her hands back in her lap. Her eyes focused on her tightly wrapped skin as all the memories of the previous night came crashing back to her.

_Nothing that has happened in your life has been an accident._

She refused to believe such nonsense. It wasn't possible for the Pendragons to have so much power, let alone use that power to squash such a powerless family as her own. It didn't make any sense.

"Good Morning, Beautiful?"

Arthur's words broke her reverie. He was standing in the doorway carrying a beautifully crafted wooden tray with an assortment of foods piled atop it.

"Arthur…"

He placed the tray on her lap gently, leaned down, and softly kissed her.

"Did you sleep well?"

She blinked a few times.

"Did you make this?"

"Don't worry," he said, plopping down next to her, "I had help. I promise this won't kill you. Merlin supervised the entire process."

She giggled.

"I appreciate it just the same. Thank you, Arthur."

She took an experimental bite out of her omelet. Her eyes widened instantly in appreciation.

"This is delicious!"

He chuckled as she tucked into her food with enthusiasm.

"I'm glad you like it. I sacrificed my dignity to become a sous chef for Merlin for that meal."

"I feel so honored," she said, pressing her hand to her chest in mock veneration.

"You really should. I don't put on an apron for just anyone."

She smiled as her eyes returned to her plate. Arthur and Merlin had really outdone themselves. They made her favorite cinnamon tea, a chocolate chip scone, an omelet, fresh cut fruit and sausages.

"Um, Guinevere?"

She looked up at Arthur, who now had a nervous smile on his face.

"Yes?"

He cleared his throat. "Would you do _me _the honor of accompanying me to the 30th annual Pendragon Inc. Ball?"

She nearly choked on her scone.

"The 30th what?"

"I know you might not feel up to it after everything that's happened," he continued. "I've always gone to these events solo anyhow. I just thought… it'd be nice. You know, since you didn't go to your senior prom. If you don't want to come, I'd completely understand…"

"Arthur, I'd love to go with you," she said, placing her hand over his. "I just wish I had something to wear…"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver card.

"Take this and get whatever you need," he said, placing the card in her palm.

She shook her head. "I can't do that…"

"You deserve something nice," he interrupted her. "Armani, Versace, Dolce… sky's the limit."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," she mumbled.

"I've enlisted the help of Morgana and that crazy blonde," Arthur said, grinning. "I'm sure they know a thing or two about expensive dresses. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Morgana's dress collection is worth more than this entire house…"

She gulped. "And when is this ball?"

"In two days."

"Oh god," she said. "There are going to be a lot of rich and powerful people there… what if I embarrass you?"

"Impossible," said Arthur, waving her off. "You're going to be the most witty and beautiful girl in the entire room. No contest."

"I find your faith in me astounding," she mumbled. "Five bucks says I fall down the grand staircase."

"Now you're just being silly."

"I can't dance either. I'm like an uncoordinated walrus in heels."

"You'll be fine," Arthur said, smiling. "I've had to lead the opening dance for the company ball for the last 10 years. Just follow my lead and you'll be fine."

"If you went alone… then who did you dance with?"

"Nimueh." He shuttered. "And once with my wife."

Gwen paled and lowered her head. His wife. Of course. She was probably a stunning beauty who'd taken dance lessons since the age of three or something. There was no way she could compare to that.

"Hey," Arthur said. "Don't worry about it. You won't even notice all the people watching. I promise."

"And you're sure you're ready to tell everyone about us?"

"Not a doubt in my mind." He smiled softly. "I think it's about time we stopped trying to hide it. I want to be able to show you off to the entire world."

Gwen blushed as he stared at her with that uncanny intensity, like the she was the only woman on the planet. No one had ever looked at her quite like that—it would certainly take some getting used to.

He leaned forward to kiss her again, and she closed her eyes immediately.

"Arthur!"

Morgana burst through Arthur's door and rushed over, looking panicked. Gwen quickly opened her eyes and leaned against the headboard, feeling disappointed.

Morgana threw something on top of Gwen's tray. "You two have made the front page. Of everything."

Gwen's eyes widened at the stack of newspapers sitting on the bed. She lifted a copy of _Camleot Weekly._

A Cinderella Story!

Has the Pendragon Prince finally found his princess?

The blood drained from her face as she flipped through the various covers. _Pendragon and his Naughty Nanny, The Ugly Duckling, turned Swan, The Prince and the Pauper… _every magazine was filled with photographs of the two of them.

"Dear god…" she whispered, feeling mortified. "I'll… never live this down. They even… have the picture with me in my Ariel nightgown. My life is over."

"I thought they only had one picture," Arthur mumbled. "How did they get a hold of these? They have our first date… paintball…even a picture of you in that red dress."

"I'm sure they've been sitting on this for a long time," Morgana said. "You're not exactly inconspicuous."

"What do you mean… you thought they only had one picture?"

Arthur gulped. "I've known about this for a few days… I've been trying to squash the story. I didn't want you to have to worry about it."

"Too late for that," she said, placing her head in her hands. "We haven't even told anyone, Arthur. Now our business is out there for the world to see…they have complete control over our story."

"Gwen…"

"You should have told me," she said. "At least… I would have been able to prepare for it. I'm not a fragile little girl. I can take it. You shouldn't feel the need to protect me all the time."

"Arthur, you idiot," Morgana said, shaking your head. "Don't you understand that by trying to squash the story, you've piqued their interest? Isn't that publicity 101?"

"I'm sure this will blow over soon…"

Morgana laughed aridly. "You've been in your bubble so long that you've forgotten how many women are obsessed with you. Any story on you is a goldmine. Just now, Merlin tried to leave to head to the hospital and there is a wall of journalists just waiting out there to talk to you. They're going to milk this story for all it's worth."

"Where's Mordred?"

"He's still his room," Morgana said, sighing. "Still refusing to talk to anyone. Sooner or later… you two are going to have to talk to him. He doesn't understand everything that's happened."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked.

"Mordred… saw the two of you kissing last night. He was so worried about you that he woke up several times during the night to see if you were okay."

Gwen's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. The universe really hated her guts this morning. She knew Mordred was going to have to find out sooner or later, but she hoped they'd be able to tell him together.

"We were doing so well," Gwen said softly. "He's never going to forgive me. I did exactly what I promised not to do."

"Make out with my brother?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "No…take his father away from him. That's how he's going to view this. He doesn't want to share Arthur with anyone else; he's made that very clear from day one."

"You've got to give him time," Morgana said. "He's such a smart child that we sometimes forget that he's only seven years old."

"Morgana, ladies and gentlemen," Arthur said, smirking. "Bastion of wisdom."

"And don't you ever forget it," Morgana said, winking.

Gwen flopped down on the bed and covered her face with a pillow. "That's all well and good," she said, "but what about those people on the lawn? What about these magazines with my face all over the covers? And Mordred… he may love the two of you, but he's never been my biggest fan…I might as well just pack my bags now."

Arthur stood up. "No," he said. "We're not going to just sit here and let them write our story, Guinevere."

"What do you suppose we do, then?"

He gingerly moved the tray off her lap and held a hand out to her. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said without skipping a beat.

She placed her hand in his palm and his large hand encircled her smaller one.

He pulled her to her feet and led her past a smirking Morgana, down the hall and the marble staircase, to the gold encrusted front door. She slipped her hand out of his and turned to face him.

"Arthur… what are you doing?"

He pulled her to him, crashing his lips against hers for the second time that morning. She felt her body relax and melt into his as she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself steady.

Arthur pulled away, leaving her longing for more. His hand found hers once again and squeezed it tightly.

"I love you."

Gwen felt like the wind had been knocked out of her in a single moment. She stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He loved her? Arthur loved her… loved her…

"Arthur…"

"I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," he told her. "I don't know how I could have missed it before. It seems so obvious to me now. I want you in my life as long as you'll have me. I want to wake up with you next to me, watch silly tv shows, make love to you…"

She blushed.

"You don't have to respond," he continued. "I know the roads ahead are tough, but I'm willing to brave the storm if you are, Guinevere. I want this…_us… _to work."

Gwen nodded. "As do I."

He squeezed her hand. "You ready?"

She smiled. "Let's do this."

They stepped outside into the sea of eager faces and embarked on a new journey, hand-in-hand.

* * *

"You should really keep your oxygen mask on, Freya."

The raven-haired girl glared at her brother. "I don't need it Lance. I've been fine without it for hours."

"The doctors say…"

"Lance," she said gently, "give it a rest. I've heard what the doctors are saying. I may not have the week. If that's true, then I'd like to live out the last of my days breathing freely, if you don't mind."

Lance sighed and sat back in his chair. "You're going to do whatever you want regardless of what I say."

"Damn straight," she said. "I can't believe you've known me for twenty-four years and you're just now figuring this out."

Lance grinned. "I'm just stating a fact, not a revelation. You've been like that since you were a child. Stubborn as an ox, just like mom. I remember the time you took public transportation to find mom at the grocery store because she said you couldn't come. She was horrified!"

Freya laughed. "I really wanted that chocolate ice cream."

"And you got it, of course." Lance continued, "In the end, no one could ever deny you anything. You just had this power over everyone; they just wanted to fall over themselves to help you."

"It's the dimples," she said shrugging.

"It's more than that, Frey." He placed his hand over hers. "You're one of a kind. You're strong and sweet and stubborn all at the same time. I've watched you grow into a stunning woman and I… couldn't be prouder of you. "

"I'm proud of you too, Lance." She smiled softly as he turned away from her. "I'm glad you've been able to find your peace with all of this. I know it must be killing you, watching me die. But I'm proud you're here with me instead of searching for a cure that doesn't exist."

He nodded solemnly as something caught Freya's eye. She scrambled for the remote in an attempt to change the channel.

"No," Lance said, holding up a hand. "Turn it up."

"You don't want to see this," she said. "It won't do you any good."

"Turn it up."

She unmuted the television, wincing as she did so.

Arthur and Guinevere, stared back at them, grasping each other's hands for dear life as they stood in front of the crowd on the Pendragon lawn.

"We seem to have caught you at a bad time, Miss Leodegrance!"

"What are you talking about?" Gwen stared down at her clothing and back at the crowd. "Pajamas are the best."

The crowd laughed as she grinned back.

"What is your favorite thing about Arthur?"

She paused for a moment. "I don't have a favorite thing," she said. "I like how some mornings he doesn't put his tie on straight. I love that he's a good father and a terrible cook. I love the way his eyes light up when he truly smiles. I could go on for hours."

"As could any female in the country," a female reporter added. "What say you about the allegations that you're only after the Pendragon fortune?"

Gwen visibly stiffened. "People will believe what they want to believe. I'm not here to defend myself against anyone. I know in my heart that I would never do something like that. If that's not enough for them, there's nothing I can do about it."

"I can see you've got that Pendragon fire," said another. "Here's the question everyone is dying to know the answer to: do you really love Arthur Pendragon? Or is this a publicity stunt to assuage the gay rumors that have been floating around."

"Gay rumors?" Arthur quipped.

"Yes sir, the rumors that you and your best friend are secretly lovers."

Gwen and Arthur looked at each other and then back at the audience, bewildered.

"Arthur and Merlin are very close," Gwen said slowly. "Like brothers, I would say."

"You didn't answer the full question."

Gwen shook her head. "Arthur and Merlin are not secretly lovers."

A good quarter of the audience groaned in disappointment.

"You still didn't answer the full question," the reporter pressed. "Do you, or do you not love Arthur Pendragon?"

"I…"

She turned to look at him. He looked back at her and smiled, nodding his head. 'Tell the truth' he mouthed.

"I…"

She took a deep breath and turned towards Arthur, rather than the audience.

"I love you, Arthur Pendragon."

She grinned and practically jumped into a kiss, startling him completely. He looked confused for a few moments, but soon melted into her lips and dipped her slightly.

The crowd cheered as they broke apart, smiling at each other.

"That's enough," said Freya, switching off the television.

"He loves her and she's happy," Lance said, smiling sadly. " I couldn't wish for anything better."

"But what about you?"

"What _about _me?" Lance shook his head. "She's always loved him. I may have had a chance, but I chose to play a different part. She'll be much happier without me, I'm sure."

"You know, for a pop star, you have really low self esteem," Freya said. "I don't suggest you get in between them, but I wouldn't say that you don't mean something to her. She rushed over here to see you and spent much of the night with you. Whether you like it or not, you hold a special place in her heart. She's not going to let you push her away, I guarantee it."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "You've only met her once."

"And yet I've somehow become the resident Gwen expert," Freya said, rolling her eyes. "That girl is somehow always at the center of things. It makes me sad that the two of you can't work out. I really like her."

Lancelot surveyed his sister for a moment with approval. "I don't know when it happened, Freya, but you've become quite the sage."

"I've had a lot of time to think, Lance," she said, leaning back against her pillow. "Life is short. For some people, it's really short. You can't waste precious time dwelling on the past. You should acknowledge it, deal with it, and move on. Or else, it'll drive you mad."

"I have a feeling you're speaking from experience, Frey."

"I don't want people to dwell on me when I die, Lance," Freya said. "I want people to remember me, sure, but not as the sad little girl with stage four cancer. I want the people in my life to be able to move on. I don't want to cause misery."

"Even Merlin?"

"Especially Merlin," Freya said, closing her eyes. "I love him, Lance. And when you love someone, you don't want him to be miserable. I want him to be able to love again. Have children. Live a full life. He has a bright future ahead of him. I don't want him to spoil it on my behalf."

"He'll always love you, Freya," Lance said. "Just as I will. You will always be with us in some form or another. You can't just erase the grief with a magic wand; it takes time to heal."

Freya's eyes fluttered open as she glanced at her brother once more. "You must promise me something, Lance," she said.

"Anything."

"Please take care of Merlin," she pleaded. "Be there for him, as a friend. He'll need someone and so will you. I think you can be that for each other."

Lance nodded.

"And stay friends with Gwen," she added. "Don't be afraid to lean on her for support. She wants to be there for you and can only do so if you let her."

"Why are you telling me this now, Freya?"

She turned her head to stare at the ceiling, looking pensive. "I know the doctors say I have a week. To tell you the truth, I think I have less than two days. I can feel death closing in on me and I want to make sure I say everything I can to the people I love. No regrets."

"No regrets," he said, squeezing her hand.

"Freya?"

Merlin stood in the doorway, looking disheveled, carrying two brown bags.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said, shaking his head. "I was over at Arthur's and there was all this press. It took forever to beat the crowd."

Merlin plopped down on the chair next to her and handed her a brown bag. "Extra crispy Pad Thai for you." He turned to Lance. "If I'd have know you were here, I would have brought you something…"

"No worries." Lance stood up. "I'll head to the cafeteria. I suspect you two have a lot to discuss."

Merlin looked puzzled as he watched Lance exit the room.

"What was that all about?"

"Merlin…I'm dying."

"I…know," he said slowly.

"No you oaf," she said, sitting up. "I think…I have two days tops. Maybe less. I may not look it, but I'm in incredible pain. The tumors have spread all over my body… I can hardly breathe at times."

"Oh dear," Merlin said softly. "I… I'm not ready for this. Not yet. We need more time."

"Merlin, we knew it was only a matter of time before it happened…"

"No, I…" He sighed. "We planned something. We were going to sneak you out of the hospital so you could attend the Pendragon Ball. Morgana…she picked out your dress and everything… "

"Oh, Merlin, you didn't…"

He looked very distraught as he sank into the chair. "It was supposed to be your birthday present."

"I still want to go."

Merlin looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"I want my last day to be special," she said, smiling. "I want to do things normal couples do. I want to dance with you, have a meal, take pictures. I don't want to sit in this hospital bed, waiting to die."

"You're sure you want to do this?"

She smiled. "I'm sure."

Merlin nodded.

Freya patted the spot next to her on the bed, beckoning him forward. "Sit with me," she said.

Merlin slid onto the bed, carrying his food with him. He slid his arm around her waist before opening his box of food.

"What would you like to do today?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder, looking up at him. "Just being here with you is fine."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Alright you got me," she said, laughing. "I really want to see the King's Speech. It's the only Colin Firth movie I haven't seen."

"I don't understand your obsession with him, but—"

He trailed off as Freya quietly reached over and placed the oxygen mask back over her face, breathing deeply.

"Freya…you mean this entire time…"

"I don't want you to remember me this way," she said, her voice muffled. "I don't want to look ill or frail. I hate that I look this way."

The tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them.

"Hey," Merlin said, squeezing her shoulder. "You're always beautiful to me, Freya. You shouldn't feel the need to put up a brave face. I'm a doctor. I know exactly what's happening to you. It doesn't help either of us if you try to hide it."

She nodded slowly and leaned against his shoulder. "I've tried to keep a brave face for so long. But I don't think I can do it anymore. I'm tired, Merlin."

"Then lean on me," Merlin said, pulling her close to his chest. "I've seen your strength; I admire it. But you don't have to be strong now… I'll be strong for the both of us."

Her ragged breathing was her only response. He watched as her eyes slowly fluttered shut and waited until her breathing slowed before he let the tears fall.

* * *

"Guys… I really don't think the tiara's necessary."

Gwen looked nervously into the fold out mirrors of the _Armani_ boutique as Isolde and Morgana trapped her on both sides. The glittering two-thousand dollar tiara winked back at her, causing her heart to drop all over again.

Morgana sighed. "Gwen, you're far too conservative for your own good. Live a little?"

"No," Gwen said, lifting the tiara off her head and handing it to Isolde. "No extraneous expenses, remember? You both promised."

"Guinevere, honey," Morgana said, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. "My brother is a millionaire. _Millionaire._ In a decade, I'm sure he'll break one billion. Two thousand dollars is a drop in the bucket."

Gwen shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't. I agreed to spend three thousand total. Even that is too much for me."

"Alright," Morgana said.

"In that case," said Isolde, snatching the tiara from Morgana, "Can I have it? You know, for helping and all?"

Morgana snatched the tiara back. "Focus, Isolde. We can raid my brother's bank account _after_ we find the perfect outfit for Gwen."

They both turned to face her, twin glints in their eyes.

Gwen gulped. "You guys are taking your job far too seriously. I'm sure this ball isn't that big of a deal…"

"Gwen… you don't understand," Morgana said, shaking her head. "This is your debut as my brother's girlfriend. Well, official debut anyway. You have to look your absolute best. Trust me, I've been to these things so many times. I'm doing you a favor."

_I sincerely doubt that,_ Gwen thought as she looked down at her current dress, a white sparkly number that was almost certainly cutting off her circulation.

"Fine," she said with reticence, "but I really don't want anything too extravagant. Right now I look like a disco ball…"

"She's right," said Isolde. "I think we may have gone a little too far. We need more Nina Dobrev. Less Rihanna."

"I agree. We also need something that accentuates that ridiculous cleavage of hers," Morgana added.

"I'm right here," Gwen mumbled, blushing.

"If you've got it, flaunt it,"Isolde said, brushing her off. "Stop being so afraid of your rockin' bod. Embrace it!"

"I think this dress is embracing me a little too much," Gwen squeaked. "Help?"

The two girls helped her climb out of her dress, giving her a few moments to breathe.

"Alright, " Gwen said, pulling her clothes back on, "you promised after the 25th dress that I could take a break. Just looking at these dresses is giving me post traumatic stress."

She pushed her way out of the stall and walked a few paces before leaning against a wall in the corner, catching her breath. She hadn't realized trying on dresses would be so complicated…and painful.

"You look exhausted."

Gwen straightened immediately, embarrassed to be caught in such a position. She looked up to find a beautiful woman with piercing blue eyes staring back at her.

"I've been in this store for three hours trying to find a dress," Gwen admitted. "And my friends, though lovely, are taking this all a little too seriously."

"I've been there," the woman said, smiling. "Do you mind if I ask what exactly you're looking for?"

"Something simple," Gwen said. "I'm not one for really extravagant clothes."

The woman looked her up and down before reaching into the pile of clothes draped over her elbow. After a few moments, she retrieved a long white dress and handed it to Gwen.

"I think you should try this one," she said. "I'm sure it'll look much better on you."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly—"

"Trust me on this one," the blond said.

"Guinevere! Your five minutes are up! Don't make us come out there and get you."

"I'm coming!"

Gwen turned towards the woman to thank her, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Guinevere!"

Gulping, she rushed towards the dressing room to avoid incurring the wrath of the two fashionzillas.

She opened the door sheepishly, presenting the dress to them as though she was trying to appease royalty.

"There isn't a single rhinestone or sequin on that dress," said Isolde. "I'm not sure it passes the fabulous test."

"But it passes the Guinevere test," Morgana said. "And I suppose that's what really matters."

"Thanks…" Gwen muttered, slipping out of her clothes.

As she pulled on the dress, she was surprised to find that it fit her perfectly. It hugged her curves comfortably, flaring out into a pleated mermaid train. The slightly plunging neckline was a little less conservative than she was used to, but she found no issue with it.

"Wow," Morgana said. "It's…"

"Perfect," Isolde finished for her. "Strapless _and _backless? I think we're rubbing off on you."

"Are you sure it's not going to just fall off?"

"I'm positive," Morgana said. "It fits you like a glove. A gorgeous sexy glove."

"How much?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I don't care how much. You're getting it. End of story."

"It's… already paid for," said Isolde.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't Armani," Isolde said. "It's Donna Karen. And there's a note attached."

"Let me see," Gwen said.

Isolde handed her the note and the three girls crowded around to read it, each equally puzzled.

_**Knock 'em dead**_**.**

"I don't understand," Gwen said.

"Gwen," said Morgana, "Did someone give this to you?"

"Yes," Gwen said. "But I've never seen her before. Why would she…"

"This dress is at least ten thousand dollars," Isode said. "It's vintage. Looks like a Anne Klein and Karen Original."

"I couldn't possibly take this," Gwen said. "I don't even know where it comes from."

"I can't say I understand any more than you do," Morgana said. "But there is no way in hell you're giving this up. It looks perfect on you."

"What if it's laced with poison or something," Gwen said, glancing at the dress dubiously. "Maybe one of Arthur's fangirls is trying to murder me."

"Well you haven't dropped dead yet," Isode said. "I'd say keep it. Don't look a gift whale in the mouth."

"Don't you mean gift horse?"

"Whale," Isolde repeated. "Blue Whale, in fact. Just look at that dress. Gift horse doesn't cut it."

"Right," Gwen said, looking at her strangely. "I don't want to keep it, but I feel like the two of you would murder me in my sleep if I didn't."

"Oh yes," Isolde said. "With arsenic."

"I understand why Tristan's afraid of you," Gwen said, laughing nervously. "You sound a little too serious."

"Okay," Morgana said cutting the conversation short. "Now that you've chosen the dress. We get complete control over your accessories."

"Now wait a minute—"

"You know what that means?" Isolde asked.

"Do I even want to know?"

"TIFFANY'S!"

The two women high fived each other to the chorus of Gwen's groans. It was truly going to be a long day.

* * *

"Mordred, I'm opening the door now. This has gone on long enough."

Arthur unlocked the door with his master key and stepped into his son's room. Mordred was sitting in his bed, arms crossed, and staring at the wall.

"Go away, daddy."

"No," Arthur said, sitting on the bed. "I'm not leaving here until you talk to me, Mor."

"I hate you!"

Arthur felt his heart break. He'd never heard those words from his son before. Though Mordred surely didn't mean it, the mere fact that the young boy _thought _he did was enough to cause any father to falter.

"I hate you and I hate her. She promised! She promised she wasn't here to take you away from me. She told me she was here to be my friend, to take care of me. She's a liar just like all the others!"

"Mordred, Guinevere isn't here to do any of that," Arthur said. "Guinevere loves you. She thinks of you as family. Why would you think she's trying to take me away from you?"

"She's not my mother!" Mordred yelled. "She's not my mother…she never will be. My _mother _loves me more than anything. You told me that. You told me she couldn't see me, but she loves me. How can she come back and be my mommy with Gwen here?"

"Mor—"

"You love her more than you love me!"

"No, no, no," Arthur said, shaking his head as the tears started to well up in his eyes. "Mordred, you're my son. You mean more to me than life itself. More to me than anyone could. I could never love anyone more than I love you. Do you hear me? No one."

"And what about mommy? You can't love her and Gwen too. How is mommy supposed to come back now?"

"Mordred," Arthur said slowly. "Your mother… she… she _can't _come back. Your mother and I love you dearly. But your mother and I can't live together. We don't love each other."

"Because you love Gwen," Mordred said. "You love Gwen and now you can't love mommy."

"Your mother and I… we just can't be together. It has nothing to do with Gwen. You're too young to understand," Arthur said.

"That's what grown-ups say to kids when they don't want to esplain something," Mordred said, scowling.

Arthur chuckled despite himself. His son once again proved himself to be much too smart for his age.

"Mordred, your mother will always be with you, and she'll always love you, but she can't be with us," Arthur said. "I know you don't like it, but Gwen… I think she's going to be with us for a while. I love her. She makes me happy."

"I'm going to make her pay."

"For making me happy?"

"I can make you happy," Mordred said. "We can color and play paintball and eat candy. We don't need her here."

"She's not going anywhere, Mordred," Arthur said firmly. "I know it's difficult for you. But I know you two were getting along. I know that she cares for you. And, even though you don't want to admit it, you care about her too."

"I can't care for her!"

"Why not?"

"Because… because… caring for her would mean giving up on mommy. I don't want to forget about mommy. But… I don't remember her. I can only see Gwen's face."

"Mordred…"

"Just go, daddy! I don't want you here! Go!"

Arthur hesitated for a moment. For the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to console his son. He couldn't relate to this particular form of cognitive dissonance his son was facing.

Arthur sighed. "I'll be in my office if you need me," he said, placing his arm on his son's shoulder. "I'll give you all the time you need. But at some point, we are all going to have to talk about this."

Mordred angrily shrugged away from his touch and Arthur felt his hear breaking all over again. Feeling utterly defeated, he stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the doorframe feeling incredibly weary.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, dialing the first number that came to mind.

"Arthur?"

"Hey," he said. "How goes the dress hunt?"

"Interestingly," said Gwen. "I'm currently hiding behind the furniture display at Tiffany's. I'm praying your sister and the psycho blonde will be distracted enough with the fur coats on the third floor to look for me up here."

Arthur paled. "You let them take you to Tiffany's?"

"Like I had a choice," Gwen scoffed. "And don't berate me! You're the one who left me with their crazy."

"I knew they'd get the job done. If I'd left you to your own devices, you would have gotten the cheapest dress because you felt bad about spending my money."

"True," Gwen said, "but at least I wouldn't feel like a chandelier. You should see some of the accessories they want me to wear. I'm sure I've seen Princess Diana sport some of these things…"

"Don't let them get too carried away," Arthur said, chuckling.

"Oh I won't," said Gwen. "If I have to get diamonds, I'll get diamonds. But I refuse to be a disco ball."

"Fair enough."

"How's Mordred? Has he decided to come out of his room yet?"

Arthur sighed deeply. "I just forced him to talk to me. I think I'm beginning to understand what's going on with him. I just don't know how to deal with it. This whole situation is a psychological powder keg."

"You mean he doesn't just want to push me out of a 3rd story window?"

"Don't give him any ideas," Arthur warned. "He's just a kid… none of his feelings come from pure malice. He's never had a mother. She left when he was barely one. And… the truth is… I never loved his mother. Mordred wasn't planned. We were young and stupid and he sort of happened. And we thought it best to go our separate ways after he was born… for Mordred's sake."

"Why doesn't she ever come visit him?"

"It's complicated, Gwen," Arthur said simply. "But because she never visited, Mordred doesn't know what she looks like or what it feels like to have a mother. And I think… he resents himself for latching onto you. He thinks—"

"He thinks that he's replacing his mother," Gwen finished. "Not to mention that I'm supposed to be the enemy. He must be really confused right now. Gosh, we should have been more careful about this."

"We couldn't have predicted this would happen," Arthur said. "What with the news outlets picking up on it… he was bound to find out anyway."

"I just wish that our relationship didn't have to happen at the expense of your son's happiness," Gwen said. "I wanted to be a part of your family, not tear it apart."

"You're not tearing us apart, Gwen," Arthur reassured her. "I think… when this nightmare is over, it'll bring us all closer together. We just need to give him time to come to term with his feelings."

"Still… I have a bad feeling about this. Whenever Mordred feels anger, he's always taken it out on me. Somehow I feel we haven't seen the worst of it yet."

"What's the worst he can—"

"You have seen enough sitcoms to know that you never ask the question," Gwen said quickly. "And in case you haven't noticed, your son is a genius. I'm sure he'll think of a new way to torment me."

"You're just being paranoid."

"You didn't have to deal with the near drowning, first degree burns, black paint, hair dye, foot stomping, insults, projectiles, clowns—"

"Okay, you have a point," Arthur said. "But I think we've definitely moved past that?"

'The question mark in your voice suggests otherwise."

"Don't worry, Gwen. I'll protect you against anything my clever son throws at you. Literally and figuratively."

"I'm touched that you'd defend me against your tyrannical seven-year-old."

"As you should be," Arthur said.

They both laughed.

"We're going to get through this," Gwen said, when their laughter finally subsided. "It's going to be rough, but we're going to get through this. It's worth fighting for."

"We _will_ get through this," Arthur said, "together."

"_Gwen!_ _You won't get away from us that easily."_

"I suppose that's my cue," Gwen said, with a sigh. "I'll see you in a few hours, Arthur."

"I can hardly wait," he said.

"I love you," she said.

There it was again. He didn't know if he knew of three words that had such a profound effect on him. It would take a while to get used to it.

"I love you too, Guinevere," he managed to respond.

Arthur slowly lowered the phone from his ear and placed it in his pocket, ending the call. He didn't know what he'd done to be so lucky. His track record for love and relationships had never been much to speak of. He'd lost hope a long time ago a la Don Draper, believing that romantic love was a fallacy, a consumerist conception. He never understood it and couldn't claim to understand it now, but he knew without a doubt that he felt it, and strongly, for one Guinevere Leodegrance.

_And one day, Mordred will come to accept it as well._

The sound of the doorbell pulled him out of his stupor. He stood in the hallway, confused. He wasn't expecting any visitors and he'd ordered security to clear the front lawn of reporters.

He descended the staircase and pressed his face against the door to look out through the peephole.

His father stared back at him, black cane in hand, his lips drawn in a very severe line.

Arthur balked.

"Arthur, I know you're in there," his father said, his voice as severe as his expression. "If you don't let me in I'll let myself in."

Arthur felt the fear rise in his chest as he pulled the door open. His father strode past him, and Arthur followed suit.

"Father," Arthur said once they'd reached the living room. "What… brings you here? I sent the yearly projected budgets just as you asked. Unless there was something else you wanted—"

"Don't be stupid, boy," Uther said, narrowing his eyes. "You and I both know I didn't come here to talk business."

"Well that's a first," Arthur mumbled.

"Where is she?"

Arthur furrowed his brows. "Who?"

"Your…nanny," Uther spat. "Where is she?"

"_Guinevere_," said Arthur, "is with Morgana. Off buying a dress for the company ball."

"Arthur… you can't be serious."

"Father, you've met Guinevere," Arthur said. "If I recall… you said you liked her."

"As your _employee_," Uther said. "Not as your potential future wife."

Arthur laughed dryly. "Why am I even surprised?"

"I'm serious, Arthur—"

"I know you are," Arthur said. "I _know_ you are. That's what hurts even more. You've seen me father. You know how miserable I've been since—"

"Don't speak of it," Uther warned.

"Why not? Too ashamed of me? God… I wish for once we'd just say out in the open how truly fucked up this family is!"

"Watch your tongue, boy," warned Uther. "I will not have you speak to me in this manner. "

"I've found someone who makes me happy," Arthur said. "She's kind, and honest, and hardworking and _beautiful_. And I love her, father. I _love_ her and there's nothing you could do or say to change my mind about that."

"Arthur," Uther said, his voice soft. "Please. Please don't do this. You'll ruin us. You'll ruin everything I've worked so hard to build."

Arthur was shocked. His father was shaking. He'd never seen him look so vulnerable…so terrified.

"Father," Arthur said. "What on Earth is going on?"

Uther leaned against the kitchen counter for support. "That woman… Arthur… she doesn't love you. She wants to destroy you."

Arthur bit back the urge to laugh. "Guinevere? Father…I mean no disrespect, but I don't think you've got the right girl. She can't even kill a spider by herself!"

"Perhaps she doesn't…maybe she isn't…"

"Father… why don't you come to the company ball? Meet her again. I'm not sure how you came to these conclusions, but I'm sure Guinevere will assuage any fears you have about her. She's not after my wealth, father. We're truly happy."

"But Leodegrance… it's not a common name…" Uther mumbled.

Arthur was starting to get worried. "Dad…are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Uther straightened. "I'm fine. It was a mistake… coming here. I'll… go to your ball. If this woman is who you believe she is, I will give you my blessing. "

"It must have taken a lot out of you to come here, " said Arthur. "I know how much you hate this place."

"Memories of your mother everywhere," Uther said, sadly. "Arthur… I've long since stopped meddling in your life. I've lived long enough to know that if you're in love, you should cherish it. Hold onto for as long as you're able. I don't care if she is of a lower class… it's not about that. I came here to protect you."

"Father, don't worry," Arthur said, placing a comforting hand on Uther's shoulder. "I can take care of myself. I'd like to believe myself to be a good judge of character and I can honestly say I've never met any more kind or pure of heart than Guinevere. You have nothing to worry about."

Uther sighed. "Do you really believe our family is…"

"No," Arthur said. "I'm sorry I said that… I let my anger get the best of me. I'd be lying if I didn't say we were dysfunctional, but I love my family."

Uther's lips turned upwards in a half smile, a rarity for him. "How's my grandson?"

"Angry," Arthur said truthfully. "He's locked himself in his room. Refuses to talk to me. He's… confused about his mother. As he should be. I hate lying to him, but I can't very well tell him the truth either. Not until he's old enough to understand."

"The truth is sometimes more painful and disorienting than the lie," Uther said.

"I know," Arthur said. "I just… can't imagine what he must be feeling right now. I've created this image of his mother that… doesn't exist. I dread the day when he learns the truth. He'll likely never forgive me. Part of me just wants to tell him the truth now. I know it's a cowards way out, telling him when he doesn't really understand, but I can't bear to think that he'll one day hate me."

"The boy could never hate you," said Uther. "You're a good father. He'll come to understand why you did what you did. "

Arthur nodded, hoping upon hope that his father was right.

"I'd better head out," Uther said. "I'm going fishing with Gaius and the old man is oddly punctual."

"It was nice seeing you, father," said Arthur. "It's been a while. I really wish you'd stop by more often. We'd love to have you over for dinner."

"This is her kitchen," Uther said, surveying the room. "Even though you've remodeled it, it's still hers. Everything about this place reminds me of your mother's mental collapse. I can't sit here and pretend it's not hanging in the air."

"I understand," Arthur said. "Seven years isn't long enough to forget about someone you loved that much. This place reminds me of her too… but I tend to remember the happier times more than the sad."

"I envy that," said Uther sadly. "You're a much stronger person than I, Arthur. You always have been. I know I'm a hard man and I've been especially hard of you, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of you. You mean more to me than anything in this world, Arthur. Don't you forget that."

Arthur merely blinked, stunned at his father's words.

"Thank you, Dad," he finally said. "That means a lot coming from you."

"It's been a long time coming," Uther said. He cleared his throat and checked his watch. "I should be going now. Take care of yourself. I know you love this girl, but all I ask is you be careful. You never know what people are capable of. Sometimes it's the nicest ones who bear the sharpest teeth."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Arthur, looking at his father strangely. "I just wish I knew where this sudden suspicion was coming from. You haven't really given me much information—"

"I must be off," Uther mumbled hurriedly. "Send my regards to Morgana and Mordred."

He turned and left before Arthur could even think of a response. Arthur sank into the kitchen chair as the door slammed behind his father. He'd never seen Uther so confused and disoriented since his mother's collapse. It didn't make any sense! Moreover, it didn't make sense that Gwen seemed to be the cause of his confusion. True, he didn't know much about her background beyond her troubling childhood, but he knew she did not harbor a malicious bone in her body. And the probability of Uther knowing Gwen's family was slim to none. He loved his father but he hardly paid attention to people outside his own limited circles.

It was no matter. Arthur was sure when his father met Gwen he'd realize he was completely wrong about her.

The alternative was too much for him to fathom.

* * *

"When you asked me out for dinner, I wasn't expecting _this_."

Vivian surveyed the surrounding area slowly, taking it all in. She was standing on the rooftop balcony, Leon close behind her. A black ornate table stood a few feet in front of her, supporting two plates with silver covers and a beautiful silver candelabra.

"Too much?" Leon asked, pressing his hand against the small of her back. "I just thought…dinner in a restaurant wouldn't cut it for Vivian Carlyle."

He was right, of course.

"No. It's perfect. I just… wonder how on Earth you found the time to make all of this."

"Magic," he said, leading her to her seat.

Leon pulled her chair out, placing her jacket over it's curved edges. He then removed the plate covers before sitting across from her, grinning.

"Wow," she whispered, staring at her plate. "This looks delicious! Chicken with plums… roasted potatoes… broccoli…"

"I figured I couldn't go wrong with chicken," he said, shrugging. "You don't fool me for a second with all those salads you eat at work."

"Nimueh makes me eat them," she said, her nose crinkling. "She says that she doesn't want her receptionist putting on weight."

"Wine?" Leon asked, pulling a bottle from under his seat. "I stole this from Arthur. Vintage Rose Wine from 1914."

She nodded.

"Vivian," he said as he poured the pale pink liquid into her glass, "I honestly don't know why you work for Nimueh if she treats you like this. I'm sure it classifies as harassment under Pendragon Inc."

"Nimueh… she's a goddess," Vivian told him. "She's successful in her career. She's a fashion icon and everything I want to be in life."

Leon frowned. "I have no doubt that you can be just as successful as her. I just... frown upon her methods. Almost no one in the department likes her. They respect her for sure, but I'm sure it's lonely for her being on top. I'm sure she never stops and things of all the people she stepped on to get where she is."

"If you find fulfillment in your work," Vivian said, "You don't need all of that. She gets by on her own merit. If I were to quit as her receptionist, there are thousands of people lined up to take my place. She reminds me of this daily."

"You could come work for the photography department," Leon suggested. "There are tons of opportunities for upward mobility."

Vivian cocked her head. "What makes you think I'm interested in photography?"

"I may or may not have stalked you once upon a time," Leon said, smiling. "On google."

Vivian blanched. "You…what?"

"Back in the day when I was a lowly photographer and you hardly noticed me, I had quite the crush on you, Vivian. Of course, I never once entertained the thought of successfully asking you out. I think you called me a mouthbreather at one time…"

She quickly brought the wine glass to her lips, gulping down the liquid frantically.

"Gah… I'm rambling," he said. "The point is: I stumbled upon the Vivian Carlyle Diaries, your blog from your college days."

She tipped the glass even further upward.

"I saw your photos from your trip to France," he said quickly. "They were…pretty spectacular. You had some really creative shots in there."

She lowered the glass. "I can't believe you found that…I told no one about them. Did you see the pictures with…"

"Juan Carlo?" Leon chuckled. "Yes. You…had quite a bit of fun in Paris, didn't you?"

"I can't believe I posted that to the Internet," she said, burrowing her head in her hands. "I mean… there are pictures of me in lingerie. Thank god I had the good sense to stop there."

"Hey, I'm a photographer," Leon said, shrugging. "The human body is art. Think of it as such. I know I thought of it that way."

"I can't tell if you're teasing me or not," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm serious about your talent," Leon said, eyes sparkling. "I think you have an eye for it."

"I dabbled in photography for a while," she said. "Father said it wouldn't lead to anything. He told me reception is where my talents lie."

Leon raised an eyebrow.

"Father doesn't want me to ever have to work too hard," Vivian said. "He's always wanted me to marry some rich man and become a housewife."

"Is that what you want?"

"I convinced myself to want that for a long time," Vivian said. "I trained myself to believe that security was the number one quality to look for in a man. I never… really believed my talent would get me anywhere. Until I met Nimueh. She plucked me right out of Arthur's office and started training me to be her protégé."

"You're very loyal to her," Leon said.

"She believed in me when no one else did, even my father," she explained. "She's taught me things I will never learn from anywhere else. Her recommendations will bring me far. I could finally work at Vogue or Vanity Fair."

"You just have to go through her hazing regimen," Leon said, frowning. "Gosh, this is something straight out of Devil Wear's Prada."

"You admit to watching that movie?"

"I'm a photographer," he said, quickly. "I'm drawn to flashy colors and bright palletes."

"And Ann Hathaway is kind of hot," said Vivian, smirking.

"Mostly that." He grinned. "_And_ I don't believe masculinity is defined in such black and white terms. I honestly don't feel ashamed at having seen it. I've also seen the _Notebook_ and _Titanic_ and loved them both. I see no issue with this."

"I bet you're jealous of us girls for being able to order the bright fruity drinks at bars," she said, smirking.

He grinned. "I'm drinking pink wine, aren't I?"

"You're telling me you'd have no issue with going to a bar and ordering an appletini?"

"I hate the taste of beer," he said, scrunching his nose. "I can't say I've ever ordered an appletini, but I like a cocktail just as much as the next guy."

"I'm impressed," she said. "I don't know many guys who would admit to doing that."

"Being in fashion really changes your views of the world," he said, placing his hands in his palms. "I've seen so many different people of varying identities and orientations, many of whom have to subvert their most identifying features to get even a tiny spread. My entire career is based on such a rigidly constructed image. And since I deal with that everyday, I try to veer away from that when I can."

"Is that why… you're here with me?"

Leon chuckled. "No, of course not. I'm speaking of the little things I do to subvert expectations of me. Those things give me freedom. I'm dating you because I like you, Vivian."

_You won't like me once you know the real me_.

Vivian laughed nervously. "I've been so horrible to you."

"Yes," Leon said. "But that's not you, Vivian."

"You don't even know me," she added.

" 'You know what I love? I love the moment right before it rains. The feeling that rises in your heart, the anticipation as the first drop lands on the pavement. You know the next drop will follow. Then another. The rest, all at once. Even though it's predictable, it almost always surprises me when I'm soaking wet in minutes.'"

"How did you—"

"' It's the same with the sunrise. You expect it to happen, but you're always shocked when the light scatters in the atmosphere and traverses brilliantly across the horizon. That's how I think love should be. There's the construct, the schemas and expectations in the media—and the reality, which is more exciting and _different_ every time.'"

"I can't believe you remember that," Vivian said, eyes wide. "I wrote that years ago… I don't even remember it that closely."

"I think _that's_ you," Leon said. "I could be completely wrong, of course, but I think you're more artistic than you give yourself credit for. All work is part autobiography; I like to think I'm learning more and more about you through your work."

"This is so not fair," Vivian groaned. "I forbid you from reading any further until I have some sort of collateral."

"If you look up sonicthehedgehog13, you'll have enough content to sift through for a lifetime."

"That easy, huh?"

Leon shrugged. "It's only fair."

"You're so…agreeable," she said, narrowing her eyes.

He laughed. "You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"It's frustrating that you're so…perfect."

Leon snorted. "I'm definitely not perfect. I put other's needs above my own to a near pathological degree. I'm passive aggressive. Too trusting. The list goes on."

"Well," Vivian said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You're damn near perfect by comparison."

Leon sighed. "You're far to hard on yourself, Viv. Right now I consider myself the luckiest guy in the city. I'm lucky I've been able to string two words together with you sitting across from me in that dress."

Vivian blushed. "You clean up nice too," she said.

"I'll take that as a compliment of the highest degree, Ms. Carlyle."

He stood up, offering her his hand. She stared at it with a raised eyebrow.

"You're not making this easy for me." He chuckled. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"This isn't some weird threesome thing, is it?"

Leon shook his head. "It amazes me where your mind goes sometimes."

She took his hand, still eyeing him suspiciously. He led her down the rooftop elevator to the 8th floor. When they reached room 808, he rang the doorbell. He turned to look at her, his excitement met with her utter bewilderment.

After a few moments, the door clicked and slowly opened. Vivian's lowered her eyes to find a young brown-haired girl staring back at her with wide green eyes.

"Annie," Leon said, crouching down to meet her gaze. "This is Vivian."

"Hi, Vivian," Annie said, beaming at her. "Daddy told me all about you! You're really pretty!"

Vivian just stared back at the girl, her mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish out of water.

"Vivian?"

She turned to face Leon, a look of pure horror on her face. Then she turned back to the smiling young girl.

"Hi," she managed to say. "I'm Vivian."

Annie giggled. "Daddy already said that. You're funny!"

"I…" she said, her voice slightly higher than she expected. "I have to go."

"But—"

Before he could complete his sentence, she ran down the hall as fast as her heels could carry her, not daring to look back for even a moment.

* * *

Guinevere rang the doorbell to the Pendragon mansion with what little energy she had left. After today, she no longer believed that shopping was fun. It was torture of the highest degree. She could feel pain radiating from the soles of her feet up to her earlobes. The worst part was that Morgana and Isolde weren't done with her eye. She still had to sit through hair and makeup the next day. It was doubtful she'd ever recover from _that_.

"Welcome home," Arthur said as he opened the door.

She slunk past him, the heavy bags weighing her down.

"Rough day?"

Her haunted look gave him pause.

"Uhh… let me take those," he said, relieving her of the shopping bags and placing them on the table. "I take it they put you through the ringer?"

"I just want to go upstairs and take a _long_ shower," she said

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "How about I run you a nice warm bath?"

"Yes, please," she said, leaning into his touch. "My entire body feels so tense. We walked through all the stores to find the perfect pair of shoes. _All the stores._"

"Yikes," he said, cringing. "Leave it to Morgana to take shopping to the extreme."

"And they did it with a smile!" She shuddered. "And six inch stilettos. I don't know how their feet didn't fall off."

"Mystery of the ages," he said, smiling. "A bath _and_ a massage, then."

"You're a god," she said.

"Can't say I've heard that one before," he said.

They slowly walked together up the staircase. When they reached the landing, Gwen paused for a moment.

"Did you manage to get through to Mordred?"

"No," Arthur said, sighing. "Why do you ask?"

"His door's open."

Arthur ran toward the door and pushed it open. The room was empty.

"Mordred?"

"You check the master bedroom," Gwen said. "I'll check the rooms on this end."

Arthur nodded and rushed towards the other end of the hallway.

Gwen started with her own room, directly across from Mordred's. She pressed her palm against the door, opening it slowly.

She drew a sigh of relief. Mordred was sitting on her bed, his back facing her.

"Oh gosh, you terrified me! I'm so glad you're safe!"

Mordred turned towards her.

"I hate you."

"Mordred—"

"You promised you wouldn't take my daddy away from me! You're a liar, just like the rest of them!"

"Mordred, I'm not trying to take your father away from you—"

"I'm going to take away something you love."

"Mordred, please, we should talk about this—"

He walked towards her, his small fist clenched in front of him. When he reached her, he released his fists, and tinny pieces of paper fluttered to the floor.

Gwen stared in at the ground in horror as the realization dawned on her. She recognized the pieces of her father's face first, then the bright greens of her mother's dress. And Elyan…

Her favorite photo, the only photo she had with her entire family, lay in ruin across the bedroom floor.

She stared at it for a full minute, then slowly raised her head to meet Mordred's satisfied blue eyes. Her own eyes were quickly welling up with tears.

"I…"

"Guinevere?"

Arthur appeared in the doorway, looking simultaneously relieved and confused.

Gwen stood up, her entire body shaking with the strength of her grief. She took a few steps back, distancing herself from the two Pendragons before her.

"I quit."

* * *

That Mordred is a sneaky little child, isn't he? I know I'm cruel :p but I can never let my characters get too comfortable. Especially when I have 10,000 words a chapter . As always, please let me know what you think!

- Hime

**:: The title of this chapter is derived from the ABBA song of the same name ::**


	15. Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

**Let's Call the Whole Thing Off**

"You what?"

Gwen looked up at Arthur, resolute.

"I quit." She said again. "Mordred has made it very clear that he no longer wants me here. I've given everything I have and I still can't get through to him."

"But… you can't!"

"I think you'll find that I can," she said. "I'm going to my room to pack my things."

She turned to Mordred. "Someday you're going to have to learn that you can't treat people like trash. You've hurt me more than I can say. I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Gwen, he's just a child," Arthur said. "He doesn't understand what he's doing."

"I think… he understands quite well," she said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to pack."

"Mordred," Arthur said, "go to your room. I need to speak to Gwen alone."

Mordred didn't budge.

"She's really leaving?" he asked, wide eyed.

"She's not going anywhere," Arthur said. "Now go."

He slowly ambled out of the room, looking quite unsure of himself.

"Guinevere," Arthur said, once he was sure Mordred was out of earshot. "You're being rash. Surely we can talk about this reasonably."

She placed her suitcase on her bed and began frantically filling it with her belongings, ignoring him.

"Guinevere—"

"That picture," she said, her movements slowing, "was the most precious thing in the world to me. It was the only thing I had left of my family and your son, knowing that, just destroyed it."

"I think you're giving Mordred too much credit," Arthur said, chuckling.

"You think this is funny, don't you," she said, looking up at him, tears in her eyes. "You're _laughing._ Arthur… you can't let your son keep doing things like this. You should take the things he does seriously. This was a deliberate attempt to hurt me. He finally hit me where it hurts and I just can't _take _it anymore. I can't. I need to get out of here. I'm sure you can find someone to replace me."

"You know very well that I can't," Arthur said. "And what are you planning to do? Just walk out? Where are you going to go?"

"I'm sure I can find someone willing to take me in for a while," she said, still refusing to look up at him. "And I'm sure I can find a job at a library somewhere."

"Gwen, you're not being rational right now," he said. "I know how hard it is for you to find a steady job. Are you really willing to throw all of this away over something stupid?"

She paused for a full ten seconds, letting his words wash over her.

"Something _stupid_?"

"Guinevere—"

"No." She said. "You don't get to talk. Not anymore. You don't believe in me, Arthur. You don't _understand _me. And, as much as I love you, I can't be with someone who won't see what's plainly in front of him."

"You can't ask me to choose between you and my son, Guinevere," he said. "Because. you can't win that battle."

"I would never ask you to do that," she said. "Do you really think I'm that petty, Arthur? What you're doing to Mordred…it's not healthy for him. He's never going to learn unless he hears it from you, truly and sincerely from you."

"It's not that easy to be a parent, Guinevere," Arthur said, his own anger rising. "I may seem easy to you because—"

"Because what?" Gwen asked, her tone icy. "Because I don't have parents any more? Because… I don't have a family?"

"That's not what I meant!"

She stared at him, her eyes flashing with more anger than he'd ever seen her express.

"I think that's _exactly _what you meant," Gwen said. "I knew Mordred had the power to hurt me; it turns out you do as well. Like father, like son."

"I didn't mean that—"

"Get out."

"Guinevere—"

"Arthur, _please_ just go."

She refused to look at him, but he could tell she was trying her best not to cry.

Arthur knew better than to push her. Instead he slowly backed out of the room, closing the door behind himself.

He leaned against the doorframe and listened as Gwen's anguished cries resonated throughout the room, wishing he could take it all back.

* * *

Morgana stood in front of room 432, her knuckles hovering near the door. She didn't know why she was so nervous. It felt like she was meeting the undertaker instead of the frail sick girl within.

"Come in."

Morgana turned the doorknob slowly and let herself in. Her feet remained rooted to the spot as she fidgeted with the bag in her hands awkwardly.

Freya smiled at her. "I promise I don't bite. Not since I was little, anyways."

"Hello, Freya," Morgana said, her tone oddly formal. "I have some dresses for you to try on."

Freya pulled off her blanket and carefully slid off the bed, leaning against the frame for support.

"Morgana, right?" Freya looked her up and down. "Wow…you're…. really gorgeous."

Morgana blushed. "Umm…thanks?"

"Thank you for coming all the way out here," Freya said. "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me. You're really kind."

"Do you like blue or purple?" asked Morgana, desperate to stop the flow of compliments. "I also have this pretty silver number that I think would look really great with your skin tone."

"I trust your judgment," she said, untying her hospital robes.

As the robes fell to the floor, Morgana had to use all her will power to stop herself from gasping. Freya's skin was littered with large pink legions, resembling bruises. The marks were positioned sporadically along her back in angry patches.

"H-here," Morgana said, fishing the silver dress out of her bag and handing it to her. "Try this on…"

She took a step back, trying her best to regain her composure.

"It frightens you, doesn't it," Freya said, as she pulled on the dress. "It used to frighten me too. Every time I looked in the mirror. But it never seemed to frighten Merlin. Or, even if it did, he never showed it for a moment."

"I'm…sorry."

"Morgana," said Freya, without missing a beat. "I'm going to be frank. I… know. About you and Merlin."

"Oh," Morgana said, feeling her heart drop down to the pit of her stomach. "I…well…um. How much…do you know?"

"I know he is incredibly in love with you," she said.

"Was," Morgana corrected. "And that was years ago. We were young and immature. What we had is nothing compared to what you and Merlin have. There's no need to feel…. threatened."

"You misunderstand me, Morgana," Frey said, smoothing down the shimmering dress. "I love Merlin and he loves me. I don't need any other validation. I'm not trying to push you into a corner."

Morgana eyed her strangely. "Then… why even bring it up?"

"I…. don't have much time left," Freya said, smiling sadly. "And I need to know that he'll be taken care of."

"I don't understand…"

"He's still in love with you Morgana," Frey said. "I… can see it in his eyes whenever he talks about you. And it's clear…. that you love him too."

"I don't—"

"I'm not an idiot, Morgana," Freya turned to face her. "You're not doing this for me; you're doing this for Merlin."

Morgana remained silent.

"You'll put Merlin first, even if it pains you to do it," Freya continued. "And that's why I'm asking you… to please watch over him when I'm gone."

Freya gripped the bedpost to hold herself steady. Morgana stepped forward to help her, but Freya raised a hand to stop her.

"Just a dizzy spell," she said, closing her eyes tightly. "It'll pass."

"Freya," she said. "I'm never going to go after him. It wouldn't be right."

"Are you really going to deny the wishes of a dying girl," Freya said, raising a eyebrow.

"You don't know the entire story—"

"You slept with someone else." Freya said.

Morgana blushed. "It's not that simple. And…I don't want to talk about it. Let's just finish your outfit, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Freya said, maneuvering to sit on the edge of the bed. "I didn't mean to—"

"If your goal was to shame me, then congratulations: you've done it," Morgana said, resigned. "Feel free to look through the bag on your own. I can't do this anymore."

"Wait."

Morgana stopped.

"Sit with me," she said, patting the space beside her. "Please?"

Morgana obliged, though warily.

"That was horrible of me," Frey said, staring at her lap. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up. I've only just met you."

"You…are Merlin's girlfriend." Morgana said. "I don't understand why you're doing this. You should be throwing things at me right now."

"What would be the use in that?" Freya cocked her head to the side. "If it wasn't for you, Merlin and I would have never gotten together. He was so torn up inside just as I was. We helped each other heal and, over time, we fell in love. Our love is unique and beautiful and I find peace because it is ours alone."

Freya placed a frail hand upon Morgana's knee.

"Merlin and I were never meant to be," she said. "Time was never on our side. But you two have the gift of time. Don't take it for granted."

"You're wrong," Morgana said. "We've both accepted that we've missed our chance. We're too broken. He could never forgive me and I could never forgive myself."

"He's already forgiven you," Freya said. "The only thing left is for you to stop being so hard on yourself and let him in. He's going to need you when all is said and done."

Morgana stared at her. "I… still don't understand you."

"Spending a lot of time in this hospital has increased my sagacity," she said, smirking.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. "If sagacity is synonymous with insanity," she said.

"Don't get me wrong," Freya said. "If you ever hurt him again, I'll kick your ass from the afterlife, capice?"

Morgana blinked. "Understood," she said

"Excellent," Freya said, the smile returning to her face. "Now let's get back to those accessories, shall we?"

Morgana still didn't understand Freya. As far as she could tell, she was an extremely strange girl. If she had been in Freya's place she most certainly would not have pushed Merlin towards another woman, especially one with whom he had a turbulent and confusing history. Yes, she too would want Merlin to be happy, but she would not have tried to arrange that herself.

Though, as confusing as the younger girl's actions were, Morgana felt immense respect for her. Barring her own adopted mother, she had never met someone so amazingly selfless.

"I think," said Morgana, actually biting back tears, "the green ones would look lovely on you."

Arthur emerged from his room a few hours later. He had decided that perhaps Guinevere just needed a little time to cool off. He had tried to talk to her through her door, but her anguished cries became far too much for him. Now he just hoped upon hope that she would now be willing to forgive him.

"Daddy!"

Mordred ran down the hallway towards his father, wide-eyed. He gripped Arthur's arm and pulled him in the direction of Guinevere's door.

"Mordered, what—"

He followed his son's eyes to Guinevere's empty room. The door was wide open revealing a pristinely made bed and newly vacuumed floor. Her family photo was strewn across the bed, the only remnants of her existence in the Pendragon household. There was no letter, no note, not a single indication of where to find her.

"Daddy," Mordred said, tugging on his father's shirt. "Does that mean I get a new nanny?"

"No," Arthur said, only half-responding to his son. "No, she wouldn't just… not after everything…"

"I… don't want a new nanny," said Mordred, slowly.

Arthur lifted his son into his arms and cautiously lowered himself onto Guinevere's bed, being careful not to disrupt the photo.

"Mordred," he said, looking his son in his eyes. "Why…did you do this?"

"I though she was just like all the others," Mordred said. "She lied to me. She promised she wouldn't take you away from me. Aunty Morgana always told me I should be careful because they all wanted your money and they didn't care about me."

"Mordred, I know you're just trying to protect me," Arthur said, pulling his son closer, "But you don't need to. I'm your father. My job is to protect you. I know I haven't been doing a good job of that lately. I know you've been hurting because of me. I promise, from now on, I'm going to be a much better father to you."

"But you're already the best daddy," Mordred protested. "I'm the bad child."

"What you did was wrong, Mordred," Arthur said. "You hurt someone who really cares about you. I've let you get away with it too much. You have to learn that you can't ever treat people like that. But you're not a bad child. Don't you ever think that."

"She's going to come back, isn't she?"

Mordred's eyes welled up with tears as the question escaped his lips, and Arthur felt his heart break a little.

"I don't know, Mor," Arthur said, brushing a tear from his son's eye. "We have to say sorry; we've both done wrong."

"I knew I would hurt her," he said as the tears ran down his cheeks with abandon. "I _knew._ But it hurts, daddy. I hurt her and it hurts. She was the only nanny who was nice to me and I made her go away."

"She'll come back, Mordred." He rubbed a comforting hand down his son's back. "She's part of our family. Family sticks together."

Mordred looked up at his father, his blue eyes coated with fresh tears. "Do you love her daddy? Like you love me?"

"I do love her, Mordred," Arthur said, his heart tightening at his own words. "She makes me very happy. But, I don't love her like I love you. You're my son; our love is special, just for the two of us. Even if I love Gwen, it doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"Swear over the silver crayon," Mordred said.

"I swear over the silver crayon, the red skittles, and all the chocolate chip cookies in the world," Arthur said, placing his hand over his heart.

"Woah," Mordred said, looking impressed. "You're so cool, daddy!"

Arthur chuckled. "I'm sure you won't think I'm cool in a moment," he said, lowering his son to the ground. "You're grounded for a month. That means no television. No video games. No sweets."

Mordred hung his head. "Yes, daddy."

"And you must promise me to never do something like this again," Arthur said, his voice stern. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." Mordred stood up a little straighter and looked his father in the eye. "I promise."

"Good," Arthur said. "Now daddy needs to think so he's going to go to work now. I'll see if Uncle Gaius can watch you."

Mordred wrinkled his nose but said nothing as his father continued to pace around the room. He was still a little convinced that Gwen was a witch who did magic. A good witch, he decided, like Hermione or Glinda. She made his heart grow bigger. It used to scare him but, now, he didn't mind. He just missed her. A lot.

_And she makes daddy happy_, he thought as he watched his father circle the room.

The cogs started turning Mordred's head and he left the room to retrieve his Spiderman notepad. Even if it meant no chocolate chip cookies for a year, he'd bring Guinevere back.

* * *

Gwen rang the doorbell, the heavy dufflebag cutting into her shoulder. A strong part of her wanted to run away; another part of her, her _pride,_ willed her to stand rooted to the ground, resolute.

The door opened almost immediately and the strong scent of alcohol overwhelmed her. Lancelot stood before her, looking nothing like the man she had come to know. He was, in a word, haggard. His face, usually clean-shaven, was ridden with stubble. His youthful eyes had aged significantly, as if he had returned, haunted from a violent battle.

"Dear god…"

"Come on in," he said, pushing the door behind him and flourishing his hand. "Make yourself at home."

Gwen ambled past him slowly, purveying the damage with a critical eye. The disaster before her undermined the rather beautiful apartment. Clothing and bottles of alcohol littered almost every surface including the polished mahogany floors and dusky old world furniture. She tiptoed over plaid shirts and leather pants, old college sweatshirts and jeans, Jack Daniels and Skyy Vodka.

"Would you like a drink?"

She turned towards him, a negative response on her lips. However, as the events of the evening came flooding back to her a meek "yes" escaped her and she collapsed on the couch.

He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments and returned with a bright purple bottle.

"It's vodka…made with purple skittles," he said in response to her raised eyebrow. "It's…Freya's favorite. She used to make it all the time because she hated the taste of alcohol."

Gwen felt her heart sink as she looked at the bottle and a fresh batch of tears welled up in her eyes.

"Skittles, huh?" she said, accepting the bottle. "How about that…"

She took a long swig, letting the sweet liquid travel down her throat.

"Hey," Lance said, sitting next to her. "What on Earth happened?"

"Mordred happened," she said, looking down at the bottle in her lap. "He… destroyed the last photo I had of my entire family. And Arthur…"

She sighed.

"Let's just say Arthur doesn't understand me like I thought he did."

"I'm sure that's not true," Lance said. "I may not like him, but it's clear to me that he would do anything for you. "

Gwen shook her head. "I don't think that's true," she said sadly. "And I don't expect that from him. That would be unreasonable of me. I just…felt like I belonged there. I know it sounds silly."

Lance placed a hand on her knee, prompting her to look at him. "Guinevere," he said, looking her in the eye, "please be open with me. It pains me to see you like this. I have confided in you and I would hope you would be comfortable enough to do the same with me. "

"I really shouldn't have come here," Gwen mumbled. "Gosh… you're dealing with more problems than I could even fathom. How inconsiderate of me—"

He placed a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"It's a welcome distraction," he said. "Now, please, tell me what's wrong."

"It's stupid," she said after taking another long swig. "It's been eight whole years. I…should be over my father, but I'm not. That wound still runs deep. I mean… I'm not even over my mother, and I barely knew her. And Elyan…I can't help thinking that I'll never find him. That picture always reminded me that, at some point, I belonged _somewhere_."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and laughed dryly.

"It's funny really," she said. "I mean, who was I kidding, thinking I could waltz into some millionaire's life and feel at home. That out of all the girls pinning for him, he'd choose me, a little nobody from a poor family with no prospects. Why did I even think for a second that he'd understand me? We come from two completely different worlds. I've had to struggle all my life to even be acknowledged. That probably means nothing to him."

"Gwen," Lance said, gently. "Arthur loves you. The way he looks at you, you'd think you were the only woman on this planet. There is no question of that."

"I'm being unfair, I know," she said. "And, of course, I don't wish to stand between a father and his son. I get it. I just thought…I thought I meant more to him than that. He just wrote me off, like I didn't matter. Like what I was feeling was trivial. I think of my family every spare moment. That picture meant more to me than anything in the world. I just thought…if he _knew _me, he'd understand that."

Lance chuckled.

"What?" Guinevere narrowed her eyes. "I wasn't trying to be funny…"

"Guinevere," he said, smiling. "I think you have an idolization problem."

"A…what?"

"You expect the best out of everyone," Lance explained. "But people are human; they make mistakes. They're not idols; they're not perfect. Actions speak louder than words, but acknowledgements of those actions speak even louder."

"His actions show that he doesn't understand me," she pressed. "I don't think he ever will."

"He won't if you don't let him," Lance told her. "Arthur is not the perfect Disney prince, of that I am sure. But I know he has the perseverance of one… even an old world sense of honor. He can't sit idly by knowing his words hurt you; he'll do everything that he can to make things right."

Gwen giggled. "Prince Arthur, huh? I like the sound of that."

"And…if he doesn't," Lance said, tucking a loose curl gently behind her ear, "he's an idiot."

She gulped, hating herself for the brief fluttering of her heart. "I wouldn't blame him," she said, her voice higher than she intended. "I…didn't really let him in. I didn't give him the benefit of the doubt. I just ran away."

"You're human too, Guinevere," Lance said. "You're beautiful, and kind, and lovely, but you're_ human._ Don't be so hard on yourself."

She leaned away from his touch, deciding against her better judgment to drink even more of the strange skittles vodka to avoid his eyes.

"Hey," he said, eying her as she downed the bottle. "Take it easy…"

She lowered the bottle, now nearly empty, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I realize I'm not setting the greatest example right now," he said, eying the alcohol bottles littering the floor. "I just don't want you to do something you might regret in the morning."

"I'm out of a job, an important trinket, and possibly a boyfriend," she said. "All in the course of an evening. I think I'm entitled to a little liquor."

She was starting to feel the alcohol now, coursing through her system, relaxing her and casting a veil over her judgment.

"As are you," she said, retrieving a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels from the floor. "We live life so carefully all the time, you and I."

If there was one thing he learned in life, it was never to accept an offer from a drunk person. Especially not a drunk beautiful girl he was currently in love with. It was hard enough being around her as he sobered up. He couldn't imagine how he'd behave around her while drunk.

But in the end, no matter what her state, he couldn't deny Guinevere anything. He willingly accepted the bottle, with a deep feeling of foreboding welling in his chest.

* * *

Arthur sighed, leaning back into his office chair. He'd thought coming back to work would clear his head, but he'd somehow managed to do absolutely nothing since coming into the office. His mind was racing, his emotions oscillating between self-loathing and worry.

Like a complete sap, he'd left Guinevere several messages, each one more desperate than the last. She hadn't responded to any of them. He wasn't sure what to make of this.

He pressed the butt of his phone against his forehead, sighing deeply.

"You look like hell."

Gwaine stood in front of him, looking amused. As usual, he looked impeccable in a three-piece Armani suit, not a hair out of place.

"All these years, and you still don't know how to knock," Arthur grumbled, sitting up in his chair. "I am your boss you know."

"And I handle the finances," Gwaine quipped. "You're hopeless without me. I'm the only one you trust with your money."

He lifted himself onto Arthur's desk and turned to face him. "What's eating you? A woman, I presume?"

"Why do you think—"

"I saw you grinning yesterday. Now you look like a complete mess and you're never in the office at 6am," Gwaine noted. "Your work is untouched and Marge tells me you where still here when she checked out at 11 last night. It's either a death in the family or a woman.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," Arthur said.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a new lady love?"

"I was afraid you might hit on her."

"You're fears are not unfounded," Gwaine said. "I do it as a favor to you I see. Any woman who can be wooed by my charms is not worth your time."

"I'm honored to have such a noble friend."

"If you let me know what's troubling you, Arthur, I may be able to offer some advice," Gwaine said, his expression serious. "I jest, but, in all honesty, I don't like seeing you this way."

Arthur sighed and buried his head in his hands. "It was perfect. I finally found someone, someone amazing. However, in the course of one evening, I managed to completely ruin everything."

"Did you try apologizing?"

"I've left a million messages on her phone," Arthur said. "She left hours ago. I worry for her safety, but don't want to overstep my bounds and look for her. I'm sure she doesn't want anything to do with me after what I said to her."

"I'm sure that's not true, Arthur. If she feels the same way about you, a simple argument won't push her away. If it does, she probably wasn't invested to begin with."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Arthur said. "Guinevere… she said she loved me. I want to believe it. It would make me the happiest man on Earth. But it almost seemed too good to be true. She was with another man before me. Maybe—"

"Did you say Guinevere? As in, Guinevere Leodegrance?"

A wave of recognition washed over Gwaine's face followed by something Arthur couldn't quite place.

"She told me you two were childhood friends," Arthur said carefully.

Gwaine smoothed his hair out of his face and Arthur noticed his hand was shaking slightly. "All of this," he said, gesturing to his impeccable suit, "I became what I am today because of her. She's the one person who ever believed I could be anything but a delinquent."

"Gwaine—"

His friend raised his hand to stop him. "Take care of her," he said, his eyes softening.

"She doesn't need to be taken care of," Arthur chuckled.

Gwaine shook his head. "Gwen is capable of taking care of herself, that's true. She wants you to believe she can carry everything on her shoulders; she'll push you away to prove it. Don't let her. Give her a shoulder to lean on. Show here that you're there for her if she needs it."

"I don't know," Arthur said, sighing. "I feel like I've blown it. I don't think she'll want me anymore."

"You'll never know until you try," Gwaine said. "If you really love her, go to her. Show her how sorry you are; prove that you want her back."

"I never thought I'd say this, but… thank you, Gwaine."

"Just… make sure she's happy," he said, hopping off the desk. "She deserves happiness after everything she's been through. And tell her… I'm sorry for leaving when I did. She needed someone and I wasn't there for her."

"You can tell her yourself," Arthur said, standing up and collecting his things. "For what it's worth, I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Gwaine nodded. "I hope you're right." He smirked. "All things considered, I'm glad Princess Esmeralda finally found her prince."

Arthur stared at him strangely.

"Never mind."

* * *

Vivian was hiding.

She wasn't proud of it, for sure. Her father had always taught her to keep her head held high and to not balk at conflict. Normally she welcomed it. Not today. Today she ducked below her desk at any sign of a certain curly haired blond.

Currently she was positioned under her desk, eating her breakfast. She'd heard clients walk up to reception, ringing the bell once, twice, _three times_. Though she knew she would incur the wrath of Nimueh, she remained in her hiding place, not daring to emerge until she was sure the coast was clear.

She took a bite out of her bear claw pastry, closing her eyes as she relished the cinnamon sugar flavor. Her plan had been to eat her breakfast slowly, then watch several episodes of Desperate Housewives under her desk until noon. She knew from the schedule that Leon had taken the rest of the day off to prepare for the Pendragon Ball the following evening.

_I can't bear to face him,_ she thought, closing her eyes tightly. _What kind of girl runs away at the sight of a child?_

She had replayed the dreadful moment in her head numerous times groaning as the shame blossomed in her chest. That was it. She had blown it in the most spectacular way and Loan would undoubtedly never speak to her again.

"Viv."

She froze.

"Viv, I know you're under there."

Her eyes widened with horror as she slid from underneath the desk, bear claw still in hand. Leon stood on the other side of the desk, his arms folded across his chest. He was impeccably dressed in a forest green shirt and black slacks, his camera neatly positioned mid-torso. He wore a peculiar expression on his face that she couldn't quite place.

"Hi," she managed, meekly. "Um..." She looked down at the pastry in her hand and held it out to him. "Bear claw?"

An almost imperceptible smile broke through the mask of impassivity.

"Why not," Leon said, accepting the pastry.

An awkward silence followed. Vivian wondered for a single insane moment whether she should put her gymnastics training to use and vault over her desk towards the nearest exit.

"Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

Vivian placed her hands behind her back, a nervous gesture. "I think the elephant is fine, honestly. Doesn't want to be talked about. It's rude, you know."

"Viv," Leon said, a steely tone in his voice. "You owe me an explanation."

"I…" she blushed, looking down at her feet. "I'm… not the best around kids. They make me nervous. I didn't think…a child was part of the package."

"Well," Leon said, "Annie is the most important girl in my life. She is very much a part of the package."

"Then," she said, biting her lip, "I…don't know if I can do this, Leon. That's too much to spring on a girl in a single night."

"What are you afraid of, Viv?" he asked, leaning forward.

"I just can't." She backed away, lest his applewood scent overwhelm her senses. "A child…it's just too much commitment, Leon. I'm not…I can't be a mother figure. I'm not capable of it. Never have and never will be."

"I'm not asking you to be that," Leon said, placing a hand over hers across the desk. "Even if I was, don't sell yourself short, Viv. You're a million times more than you give yourself credit for."

Vivian shook her head. "You don't understand," she said, softly. "I can't _do _this. Not now. Not yet."

She pulled her hand away from his, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "Just go, Leon," she said, turning away from him.

"No," he said, firmly.

She turned back to face him. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I care about you," Leon said. "And, Jesus, we've only been on one date, don't you think you're jumping the gun? I just wanted to introduce the two of you and all I ask now is that you be kind to my daughter. If that's all you can handle now, that's fine. "

She thought of little Annie, the beautiful girl with the chestnut hair and the green ribbon in her hair. Such a lovely, perfect child. Vivian didn't want to disappoint her but, somehow, she knew she would. Her own mother had cursed her, broken her. She was too damaged to touch something so innocent.

"I think I can manage that," she found herself saying despite her misgivings.

"Good," Leon said, leaning forward to kiss her.

Vivian placed a finger on his lips. "Nuh uh," she said, giving him a light shove. "No kissing at work. At least, not out in the open."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "As my lady commands," he said.

He then grabbed her hand gently and pressed a warm kiss at her fingertips.

Vivian blushed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and glared at Leon for violating her rule.

"Cheater," she said, pulling her hand away gently.

Leon winked, "I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Vivian."

The pair sprang apart, feigning innocence at the figure before them.

Vivian balked. _No. Not now. Not here._

Lance stood before them, looking absolutely haggard. His eyes were bloodshot

"Lance," said Leon, confusion etched on his face. "Your next photo shoot isn't until next week. Did Elena give you the wrong date? She's usually on top of scheduling—"

"Lance and Nimueh are working on a…project for the company," Vivian said slowly. "Since Nimueh is so busy, I'm helping Lance iron out the details."

Leon's eyes darted from Vivian to Lance suspiciously. "I haven't heard anything about a new project…"

"We haven't presented it to the board yet," Vivian said, trying her best not to falter. "It'll really…revitalize the company."

She stepped out from behind the reception desk and moved to stand next to Lance. "We have a meeting," she said. "I'll see you later, Leon."

Leon could scarcely utter a response before Vivian hurried out of the reception area, Lance hot on her heels. She took an immediate left, ending up in the copying room, as the loud whirring of the machines would provide adequate cover for them both.

She closed and locked the door behind herself and glared at Lance.

"What are you _doing _here?"

"I want you to stop," Lance said. "Put an end to this now."

"You're going to have to be a lot more specific," Vivian said. Though Lance towered over her 5'3 frame, she did not flinch. "If I recall," she added, "I don't take orders from you."

"You're going to ruin her life," Lance said. "Have you ever thought of that? Gwen is happy—"

Vivian clenched her fist as the anger rose in her chest. "Do you think I give a damn about her happiness? I've had it up to here with you all _mooning_ over her. There's nothing special about her. She's just an ordinary girl. But the way you speak of her, you'd think she could walk on water!"

"So you'd ruin a girl's life over jealousy?" Lance looked disgusted. "You're horrific."

Vivian gave an arid laugh. "Don't look down at me from your pedestal of superiority. You think you're some kind of saint? You're no different from me. Just a few months ago you would have gladly done the same the if it meant saving your sister."

"I'm not proud of that," Lance said. "I can't change the past no matter how hard I try. However, I am capable of preventing the future, with your help."

"She's going to find out one way of the other," Vivian said. "Either you deliver the information to her, or we'll find some other way to enlighten her. Either way, there's nothing you can do to stop this."

She could see the will draining from his eyes and, for a brief moment, she felt sorry for him.

"Why are you doing this?"

A beat. "For love," she said

Lance furrowed his brows.

"I thought you were just using Leon for information," he said.

"Not Leon," she said. Her heart panged, betraying her words. "My mother."

Lance's eyebrows threatened to fuse together. "I fail to see how your mother has anything to do with this," he said.

She didn't know why she was telling him this. Lance was practically a stranger to her. She had offered him the proposition months ago, handing him the folder and his instructions to woo Guinevere Leodegrance and, ultimately, deliver the truth to her.

Though she had communicated with him several times over the phone, this was only the second time she'd spoken to him face to face. And yet, somehow, the words were spilling out of her.

"My mother…she's obsessed with Guinevere. Always has been. She wants her to know the truth. " Vivian said. "If I do this for her…give her the justice she's been seeking, maybe she'll stop pretending I don't exist."

Realization dawned on his face. "You're not the one behind this. Your mother…who is she?"

"That's none of your concern," Vivian said, curtly.

"Vivian," Lance said, "You know that she's using you, right? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. She's setting you up to take the fall if anything goes awry. A good mother wouldn't coerce her child into helping with this madness."

Her stomach lurched at is words. "We're done here," she said, grasping the door handle. "If I were you, I'd just give up. Let everything run its course and move on with your life."

"Vivian, I beg you," he pleaded. "You don't know me. I understand. There's no reason to do anything on my behalf. If not for me, do it for Leon—"

"Get out."

She opened the door wide and extended her hand towards the reception area.

"I've been trying to find a way to punish you for what you did to me," Lance said, placing his hands in his pocket. "You offered me false hope for my sister's life and made me lose the girl I love forever. Now I know you're just a sad little girl who's yearning for her mother's approval."

He leaned forward, a look of pity in his eyes. "The moment will come when you realize how futile your actions have been. You'll lose everything, including your own dignity. That feeling of despair and guilt is far worse than any revenge I could possibly inflict on you."

"_GET OUT!_" she yelled.

He obliged, slipping past her without a backward glance.

Vivian took a deep breath, trying as best she could to calm her nerves. In just a few moments, Lance had somehow managed to reach into her chest and squeeze her heart between his fingers. She closed her eyes to calm herself once again.

A sharp knock pulled her out of her trance.

Vivian looked up. Nimueh stood in the doorway, her lips curled into a sneer.

"Yell louder," she said, her voice silky, yet menacing, "I'm sure the entire office didn't hear you."

"I'm sorry, Nimueh," Vivian mumbled, trying her hardest to regain her composure. She found it hard to look at Nimueh as Lance's words were still fresh in her ears. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not, _sweetie_," she said, her tone mocking. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your dear mother, would you?"

Vivian dared to look deep into her mother's deep blue eyes and a pronounced chill ran down her spine. The wisps of shame swirled around in her stomach as she shook her head.

"No, Nimueh," she said, her voice small. "Never."

* * *

Gwen awoke to the sound of the doorbell. As her eyes adjusted to the light, a deep sense of dread welled up in her chest as she realized where she was.

Her eyes slowly trailed down her body, assessing the damage. Her shirt lay on the ground beneath her, yet her bottom half was completely clothed. Lance was nowhere to be found.

She carefully slipped off the couch and reached over to grab her shirt. It was drenched in alcohol. She recoiled immediately and let her shirt fall to the floor as she made her way down the dark corridor to Lance's room.

Gwen groaned as she flipped the light switch, immediately shielding her eyes from the offending glow. The doorbell continued to ring relentlessly and she wanted nothing more than to silence the damn thing. Grumbling, she pulled the drawer open and fished for something to cover herself with. She opted for a red and black plaid nightshirt.

As she lifted the shirt, she noticed a manila folder peaking out from underneath. _For Guinevere, _it read. Her brows furrowed.

A few loud knocks broke her from her reverie.

"I'm coming!" she yelled, frantically buttoning her shirt. When she'd finished, she lifted the folder out of the drawer and headed towards the door. Her eyes darted over her shoulder before slipping the folder into her purse.

She shuffled to the door and glanced through the peephole. A gasp escaped her throat. Immediately, she pulled the door open to greet the visitor.

"Mordred?" She knelt down to face him. "What are you doing here? Where's your father?"

The boy looked up at her, his wide bright blue eyes almost fearful.

"Daddy's upset again," he said. "Upset with me for making you go away. I thought… maybe if I could bring you back…"

"How did you find me?"

"Daddy left me with Grandpa Gaius," Mordred said. "He talks a lot and then falls asleep. I remember'd the pretty man, Lanceatrot is your friend, so I took a taxatree here to find you."

Gwen was baffled once again by the boy's intellect.

"Mordred," she said, placing her hands on his little shoulders, "promise me that you'll never do something like this again! You could have been hurt!"

"Daddy grounded me," Mordred told her. "And…I hurt you. I don't care if Daddy grounds me ten times. I just want daddy to be happy again."

Gwen felt her heart stir; yet, she shook her head. "Mordred…I don't think I can…"

"I know I did a bad thing," Mordred said, hanging his head. "But…I don't want you to go away. Please don't go away."

The boy launched himself into Guinevere's arms, knocking her to the floor. She stared down at him, not quite knowing what to do.

"I'm…sorry," Mordred mumbled into her shirt. "I thought I wanted you to go away. I was scared you'd take away daddy. I was afraid I'd be all alone. But…when you left, I was sad. Daddy was sad. I just want everyone to be happy again."

He pulled away, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes. "Do you hate me, Gwen? I hate me."

"Don't you ever say that," Gwen said, pulling him close. "No one hates you. You…you made a mistake. And, yes, you did hurt me. But…I could never hate you, nor could your father. If I ever hear you say that again, I'll be very upset with you."

He nodded solemnly.

"You must promise me you'll never do something like that again," Gwen said. "To me or anyone else. It's wrong."

"I won't do it again," Mordred said. "I promised daddy and I promise you."

"I'm going to call your father," she said. "I'm sure he's worried sick about you."

She tiptoed over to her purse to retrieve her cellphone. The manila folder stared back at her and a cold chill ran through her body. She shook her head. She would deal with it later.

She switched her phone back on and cringed as the bright light flashed back at her. A deep groan escaped her throat. Alcohol was a dangerous, dangerous thing.

_You have 21 new voice messages._

Gwen raised an eyebrow as she pressed her ear to the receiver to listen.

"_Guinevere…I…ah no… that's not right"_

"_I can't believe I blew it so soon…I really need you to come home…"_

"_I'm sorry, I was insensitive…as Morgana says, I have the emotional range of a teaspoon…though I swear she didn't make that up. She's not nearly as clever as she thinks she is."_

"_Mordred is my son. But you…you're important to me too. And you were right, I have let my son get away with far too much. I promise you…I'm going to work on it. Thank you for standing up to me…for showing me how wrong I've been."_

The messages varied from stumbling apology to reflection to near begging. Gwen pushed her anger aside for a moment, feeling very moved by Arthur's words.

"_Come back to me, please._ _I know I've made a horrible mistake. I know I've hurt you. But I can't imagine my world without you, Guinevere; that much is clear. Ahh…I'm not good at this whole articulating thing. Just know that I love you, Guinevere. Please give me a second chance."_

She felt the guilt wash over her immediately. This was not how she was raised to act. When she had a disagreement with someone, she usually tried to see the other side. This time she let emotions drive her actions. She'd fled at the first sign of injury.

She sighed. Lance was right. Arthur had done wrong, there was no doubt about that. However, perhaps she had overreacted a little. In fact, she'd fled to _Lance_ of all people. What kind of person was she to lean on someone with a dying sister?

Her doorbell rang once again, pulling her out of her reverie. She practically ran to the door, pulling it open slowly.

Arthur stood before her, looking a complete mess. His hair, normally impeccable was a tousled dirty blond mess and his blue eyes betrayed his sleepless night.

"Hi," she said, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Hi," Arthur answered back.

"Look—"

"Arthur, I—"

A pause and, then, laughter.

"We're not very good at this, are we?"

"The worst," Gwen agreed, giggling.

Arthur took a deep breath. "I suppose by now you've gotten the messages…"

Gwen giggled. "Yep. All twenty-one of them."

Arthur sighed. "I hoped to get to you before you heard them. I was… kind of a mess last night. Made an absolute ass of myself to your voicemail box." He paused. "Scratch that. A complete ass of myself to you…in person. Guinevere…I can't tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you and, if I could take it back, I would. I just want you to come back. You don't even have to be the nanny. Just come home."

"I'm not sure…you want me back," Gwen said, the guilt washing over her once again. "You probably never want to speak to me again."

Arthur eyed her state of dress, his eyes widening slightly at the oversized male t-shirt that dwarfed her small form.

"I've been monitoring you since you were kidnapped," Arthur said. "I can't say I wasn't disappointed to find you here."

"We didn't…sleep together, if that's what you're thinking," Gwen said, her cheeks burning. "You know I would never do that to you."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad."

"_I love you, Guinevere. I love you and I'm sorry. For everything."_

Gwen furrowed her brows at the memory. "He did…kiss me, I think," she said, slowly. "On the forehead…and he spilled his drink all over my blouse. Then, he passed out…in my lap."

"I can't say I'm too happy about that, knowing how he feels about you," Arthur said. "Right now, I don't care about him. I just want you to come home. We'll deal with this later."

Gwen sighed. "Mordred is here, you know. He somehow determined I was here and is also trying to persuade me to come back. The thing is, even though I forgive you both, I don't know if things can go back to the way they were. There need to be…boundaries."

"Mordred…oh gosh. I'm going to kill Gaius—"

"He's safe," Gwen said. "If you don't mind giving me a few moments to pack up, you can take us home."

"You're…coming home?"

"Not so fast," Guinevere said. "When you come home, my job as a nanny is finished. Even though your son is better at coping with the two of us being together, I don't think it's right to be…_together_ while he's around. We've got to set some ground rules."

Arthur groaned. "I get the feeling I'm not going to like this."

"Rule number 1," Gwen continued. "I get weekends off, during which times you must spend time with your son. Seriously this time. No more meetings or last minute cancellations. If I hear otherwise, I will pack my bags and leave."

"I suppose I can deal with that," Arthur mused.

"Rule number 2," Gwen said, smiling, "We keep it PG in front of your son until his bedtime."

"Agreed," Arthur said. "So long as PG includes kissing. I don't think I can restrain myself for the entire day."

"No, me neither," Gwen agreed. "But we must keep it at a minimum."

"Finally, rule number 3,"Gwen said. "You have to talk to your son about boundaries. If Mordred ever hurts me like this again…I'm leaving for good. No amount of adorable begging will bring me back. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am." He paused. "I have some ground rules as well."

"Oh?"

"Please, promise to tell me before you run off," Arthur said. "Don't ever just leave again. I'm an idiot. I mess things up. But promise me the next time, you'll give me a chance. If we're going to work, we need to trust each other."

"I agree," Gwen said. "I'm sorry; I let my emotions get the best of me."

"Rule number two," Arthur said. "Weekdays are clothing optional after 9pm."

"Cool. I'll opt to keep my clothes on."

"You're no fun."

"And you, my dear, are sexually harassing your nanny."

"Who is also my girlfriend."

"What a twisted relationship we have."

"Keeps us on our toes."

"Arthur…" she began. Her eyes drifted to the folder in her bag once more. She wanted so badly to tell him about it. "We'd better get out of here before Lance comes back," she said instead.

"Agreed." Arthur paused again. "Are you…still up for attending the ball tomorrow evening? I completely understand if you don't want to go. I can dance with Morgana or even Nimueh if worst comes to worst."

"I shopped for hours for that dress and put up with two crazy shopping partners for an entire day," Gwen said. "I'm not about to back out now."

Mordred peaked his head out from behind the kitchen counter.

"Mordred, what have I told you about going places on your own. What if something had happened to you," Arthur said, frowning at his son. "You're grounded for another two weeks now."

Mordred hung his head. "I know, daddy. I just…I had to find Gwen. I had to bring her home because you missed her… and I missed her too."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a rather crumpled looking object. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

Gwen's breath hitched as she realized what she was holding. It was her family photo, carefully taped back together. It was not expertly done by any means —a few pieces were missing from the edges, and the faces were misshapen— but she was incredibly touched by the gesture.

"Mordred…" she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I...don't know what to say."

She knelt down and enveloped the small boy in her arms. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing them back to me."

Mordred stood there, stiff as a board for a moment. Then, he felt a strange warmth, similar to fresh baked chocolate chip cookies or hot cocoa. He… liked it.

He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his small arms around her waist, squeezing hard.

"Please come home with us," he mumbled into her shirt.

Gwen's eyes softened as she smoothed his hair with her palm. She locked eyes with Arthur, who looked stunned.

"Of course I will," she said, becoming teary eyed again. "We're family. Families stick together, no matter what."

Gwen stood up and offered her hand to Mordred, who slipped his tiny hand into hers. She then entwined her fingers with Arthur's.

"Boys," she said, squeezing both hands. "I think it's time to go home."

* * *

"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business," Gwen read. "Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly –"

She looked over the spine of her book and smiled. Mordred was fast asleep, his tiny fingers curled over his toy story blanket.

Gwen closed _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ and placed it on his bedside table. Then, she pulled the blanket over Mordred, being careful not to wake him.

"Sleep well, Mordred," she whispered, tenderly smoothing his hair.

She kissed his forehead before tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door behind her.

"Is he finally asleep?"

Gwen jumped.

Arthur chuckled. "Do you really think a serial killer would ask you such a banal question?"

"_Constant Vigilance_," she said, looking completely serious.

Arthur chuckled. "I sometimes forget how much of a dork you are."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. Morgana tells me you're somewhat of a Trekkie."

"Star Trek transcends the plains of nerddom," he explained. "It's—"

Gwen wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"It's…dorky. I'm a dork."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Gwen said. "Never forget who you are, Arthur Pendragon. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor."

"Oh come on," he groaned, as she walked past him, giggling. "Game of Thrones? Really?"

"Really," she said, grinning.

A beat. "Guinevere," Arthur said, "I'm sorry about your photo. It was wrong of me to trivialize your feelings. I couldn't imagine how I'd feel if all traces of my mother were gone from the world. I understand why you need it so badly."

He took her hand in his, looking her in the eye. "I know I'm no replacement for what you've lost, but I'm here for you. I've said it a thousand times, but I'll say it again: you are not alone anymore."

He pulled her close, his fingers entwining with hers. "You have me. You'll always have me."

Tears welled up in her eyes as he held her and she buried her head in his chest, relishing in his warmth. He understood. He _really_ understood.

"Oh gosh, you're crying," he said, pulling away. "I'm so bad at this."

"Arthur—"

He disappeared into his room and she followed him, wiping the tears away on the back of her hand.

"I'm sure I have tissues in here somewhere—"

The words died on his lips as she whirled him around pressed her soft lips to his. Her hands grasped his white shirt, pulling him towards the wall. White-hot kisses trailed down his neck as her soft hands roamed his torso.

"I missed you."

Her words were a soft rumble against his shoulder that stirred something deep inside his chest. She looked up at him, her brown eyes a swirling myriad of emotion. His throat tightened and he found himself quietly stunned at her sheer beauty.

She pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement and hooked her fingers just beneath the drawstring of his pants. Her fingers brushed against him as she led him towards the wall. He bit his lip. Did she know how much she was torturing him?

Her hand traveled further south, pushing him over the edge. He hooked his open palms under her thighs and lifted her off the ground, pressing her further up the wall.

His hands slid under her bra, his thumbs moving back and fourth against her hardened nipples. Her legs tightened around his waist at his touch and she could feel him warm and hard against her center.

She helped him lower his pants with a free hand, gasping as he covered her breast with his hot mouth, massaging her gently with his tongue.

Gwen gripped his hair between her fingers, to keep herself at bay. Her body seemed to move on it's own accord, arching against him as he worked. Despite her best efforts, she moaned loudly as the pleasure rose within her.

Arthur surfaced, nuzzling the crook of her neck and gripping her side firmly with one hand.

"Guinevere," he managed to say. "Do you…are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly, her eyes dark with desire. "_Please_."

His grip on her waist tightened as he entered her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a firm kiss at the base of his throat causing him to groan as he moved within her. Her back slid up and down the wall in a steady rhythm, as her soft chest collided with his.

Gwen had certainly had sex before, but never quite like _this._ It had always been a means to a physical end, an experiment. With Arthur, it was different. As they moved together, she felt a fierce warmth spread throughout her body, consuming her. She couldn't think straight; all she could feel was Arthur, within her, loving her, completing her.

"_Arthur_," she whispered, as his pace quickened.

Her nails raked his back, as she gasped loudly. Arthur covered her mouth with a kiss, muffling her voice. She was clinging to him now, as the pressure rose within her, begging for release. He buried his head within the crook of her neck mumbling incoherently into her skin.

"Oh!" Gwen scrapped her teeth against his collarbone, biting down as the pleasure radiated from her center.

A few moments later, a choked gasp escaped Arthur's throat and his body shuddered against her. Gwen pressed her forehead to his as his body stilled, her breath hot against his face.

"I missed you too," Arthur said finally, rubbing a thumb back and forth across her cheek.

He kissed her again, gently this time. Her arms wrapped around his neck once more deepening the kiss.

"Even though we totally broke rule #2," Gwen quipped as she broke away. "Keeping it PG around your son. That was definitely R-rated."

"After 9pm, you're all mine," Arthur growled. "Remember?"

Gwen uncrossed her legs, sliding down his body until she was standing straight in front of him. Her arms tightened around his neck as she slowly walked him to the bed.

"_Oof,"_ he breathed as they landed.

She lay on top of him, her lips inches from his.

"And you're all mine," she said, closing the distance between them.

* * *

Wow. That actually took me AGES to write. I've had this on my computer for a while but never got around to finishing it! I know I keep saying this but, from now on, chapters will probably be shorter ~ 5-7 thousand words will suffice. Still debating on 20 vs. 25 chapters. I don't want to draw it out for too long, but I also want to have fun fluffy chapters so it's not all drama! Though I warn you be prepared for next chapter. It's going to be a doozy.

As always, please don't forget to let me know what you think!

- Hime

P.S. I'm going to start providing links to the songs these chapters are named after, all of which come straight off my itunes :)

"Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" by Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald: watch?v=J2oEmPP5dTM


	16. Walking on a Dream

**Chapter 16**

**Walking on a Dream (Part 1)**

Arthur awoke to the sound of a blow horn.

"Argh!" he yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air.

"Get up, Arthur, it's nearly noon!" said the figure towering over his bed. She grinned. "Is that Guinevere?"

Gwen blushed furiously, pulling the blanket higher to cover herself. "G-good morning, Morgana," she said, avoiding the model's eyes.

Arthur glared up at his sister before reaching down to retrieve his flannel night shit. He handed it to Gwen, who smiled gratefully.

"What do you want, Morgana?" he asked, leaning forward to provide Gwen more cover.

"It's time to get ready for the ball!"

Gwen turned around, finishing off the last of the buttons. "Now? The ball isn't until seven. What could we possibly need seven hours for?"

"Hair, make-up, waxing, facials, pedicure, manicure, eyebrows—"

Gwen gulped. "Surely, I don't need all of that…"

Morgana only stared at her. "You are going to be walking into a sea of wolves, you know that, right?"

Gwen looked up at Arthur who only sighed.

"You're scaring her, Morgana."

"Though my brother is an idiot," she said, eliciting words of protest from Arthur, "he is one of the most successful and rich business men in the country. You will be seen as his future partner, so you have to look the part."

"_What?_"She turned to look at Arthur again. "You didn't mention that part."

"Morgana is being dramatic," he said, glaring at his sister again, before turning to her. His eyes softened as he continued, "Your appearance at the ball simply means that I'm serious about you. And, yes, that means that many may perceive you as my future partner, but that wasn't at all my intention."

Morgana sighed. "I'm trying to help you out here, Gwen. My brother doesn't fully understand the implications of this. For the few years, he's attended the ball alone. This will be the second time he arrives with a partner, and _everyone_ remembers Arthur's company dance with his wife—"

"Morgana, stop."

Arthur gave his sister a sharp look.

"All I'm saying is, you need to make an impression," Morgana said. "I'm here to make sure you do."

"I appreciate that, Morgana," Guinevere said. "I wouldn't want to make a bad impression."

"I'm sure you could never make a bad impression," Arthur said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You don't have to go through this torture if you don't want to."

"I want to," she said, leaning into his touch. "This is my prom, remember? It's all part of the ritual."

"You two are giving me cavities," Morgana said, though her wide smile betrayed her words. "Go on, say your goodbyes. You won't be seeing each other for a good seven hours."

Arthur lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her.

"Bye," Gwen said, smiling as she pulled away.

"Bye," he said, grinning.

"Root canal," Morgana said, rolling her eyes. "Let's go, Gwen."

She reached forward and grabbed the smaller girl's hand, tugging her away from Arthur.

Gwen gave Arthur one last pleading look before Morgana dragged her out of the room.

A moment later, Morgana reappeared.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said opening the door wide. "You're going to need help as well."

Mordred ran through the door, launching himself into his father's arms. "Auntie Morgana says you have bad fashion," he said, looking up at him. "That's okay; I still love you."

Arthur chuckled and ruffled his son's hair. "Thanks, Mor."

"And I'm here to make sure you don't buy a powder blue suit."

Arthur looked up to find his best friend leaning against his doorframe. He looked as though he hadn't had a proper nights sleep in days.

"Oh, come on. I'm not nearly that bad!"

"You wore a magenta tie at the last ball." Merlin groaned at the memory. "I had to practically tackle you to the ground to get it off of you."

"It was edgy! All of the magazines would have said so if you'd only given me a chance."

Merlin shook his head. "We want George Clooney, not Adam Sandler. I care too much for Gwen to let her dance with a clown."

Arthur sighed. "Whatever you say, _Merlin_. The world isn't ready for my red bowtie."

Morgana rolled her eyes again. "Eugh. I'll leave you to your Merthur time. I don't know how much my stomach can actually take."

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other.

"She's just jealous," they said in unison.

"Whatever," Morgana said. She flashed the two a smile. "Have fun, boys."

* * *

"Are you sure it's safe?"

Morgana smiled at the younger girl and placed a comforting hand on the small of her back. "Of course it's safe!" she said, pushing her forward. "It's all for the greater good."

Gwen looked at the steam room dubiously and wrapped the white towel tighter around her body. She had always hated the phrase "for the greater good." It did nothing to alleviate her fears.

"What do we do now?" she asked, plopping down on one of the benches.

"Now, we talk," said Morgana, sitting next to her.

The raven-haired girl suddenly looked serious and the change in her countenance surprised Gwen.

"You're a kind and sweet girl, Gwen," Morgana said, looking down at her, "which is why you need to be on your guard tonight."

Gwen's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Be on my guard? I was under the impression this was just a company affair with Arthur's coworkers. I thought I just had to look the part."

"Yes, it is that," Morgana said, "but it's also open to other companies, partnerships, potential advertisers, even some of our competitors. People who stand to gain from Arthur's humiliation."

"I don' t understand—"

"My brother may be an idiot sometimes, but he's practically flawless at negotiation, public speaking, and being the face of the company. It's difficult to make him look bad in the eyes of the public and potential partners. But…your presence may provide that opportunity."

Gwen's heart sank. She hadn't pegged Morgana for an elitist. Her disappointment soon mingled with anger as she narrowed her eyes at her supposed friend.

"Are you saying that I'm not good enough for your brother?"

Morgana's eyes widened. "Oh no! Of course not! Quite frankly, you're more than I ever hoped for my brother. What I'm saying is, please be on your guard. Do not trust anyone who approaches you unless you are sure of the intent. Watch out for Arthur too. He's got that Pendragon temper and I'm sure, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he'll act before he thinks. Try to keep him at bay the best you can."

"This ball sounds like more trouble than it's worth," Gwen mumbled. "Wouldn't it be better if I just stayed home? I wouldn't want to jeopardize Arthur's reputation."

Morgana shook her head. "This is huge, Guinevere," she said. "You've been presented to the public as Arthur's girlfriend. If you don't attend, it'll rouse suspicion."

"Oh dear," Gwen said, feeling the anxiety rise in her chest. "This sounds like a debutante ball or something."

"My brother hasn't had a serious girlfriend in a long time, let alone taken one to a company ball," Morgana said. "And the last time—"

She stopped herself.

"What?"

"Never mind," Morgana mumbled.

"Okay," Gwen said slowly. "You're basically saying I have to be like Princess Grace of Monaco. That's nerve-wracking. I don't have formal dance training or etiquette—"

"Gwen," Morgana said, placing a hand on the younger girl's knee. "I'm not telling you to be someone you're not. Be yourself. I'm just warning you so that you're not surprised."

"You'll be there with me, won't you?"

Morgana shook her head. "I've set up something special for Freya and Merlin. I want to see it through, make sure everything goes as planned."

The tumult of emotions in Morgana's eyes startled Gwen. For a moment, she felt an inclination to probe, but she restrained herself before the words could leave her lips.

_It's not my place to ask_, she chided.

Morgana leaned her head against the tiled walls and closed her eyes. "I'm an idiot, I know. Sometimes…you'll do anything for the people you love, even if it hurts you."

"I don't think you're an idiot," Gwen said. "I think you are a genuinely good person."

Morgana laughed.

"How could you possibly know that? You don't know anything about me."

"Sometimes you don't have to know someone well to know they have a good heart," Gwen said. "You're warm, and kind, and you take care of those who are close to you. I think anyone could see that."

"No matter what kind of person I am now, I can't change who I used to be," Morgana said sadly. "No amount of self-improvement can erase the past."

"Erasing the past isn't the point," Gwen said. "You've learned from your mistakes, and you've apologized. You can't spend the rest of your life hating yourself for something you can't change. It's okay to want the best for the people you love, but at some point you have to take care of yourself too."

"Oh Gwen," Morgana said, opening her eyes, "I wish it were that easy. I wake up every morning feeling like Atlas with this heavy burden of guilt on my shoulders. I keep hoping that one day I'll wake up and it will be gone. But it's always there, just as heavy and painful as ever."

"I'm sure, whatever you did, he's already forgiven you," Gwen said. "From what I gather, Merlin isn't one to hold a grudge."

Morgana's shoulders fell at the sound of his name.

"I'm selfish, that's the worst part," she said, staring down at her hands. "I have his forgiveness. I've had it since the moment I confessed. It's not enough for me. I want to feel loved again. I want _him _to love me again. It's wrong, and I don't deserve it. It's selfish and irrational given the present circumstances, but I can't help how I feel."

She looked up at Gwen. "I'm horrible. What right do I have to feel like this when someone's life hangs in the balance?"

"You can't help how you feel." Gwen clasped Morgana's hand and squeezed. "Love isn't something you deserve. It's not something you can earn; it's something you feel. It doesn't go away just because you love someone else. It's also not a reward. No amount of work will win someone's heart. You have to let things run their course. If it is meant to happen, it will. You can't force it. "

Morgana blinked.

"What?"

"Thank you," Morgana said, with a small smile.

"You're…welcome?"

"No, really," Morgana said. "I think…I really needed to hear that from someone."

Gwen smiled back.

"You know," Morgana said, "I never thought my brother would find a girlfriend I'd like. I thought anyone who would willingly be in a relationship with him would have to be a couple cards short of a full deck. For what it's worth, I'm really glad you walked into our lives."

Gwen blushed. "Me too," she said. "It's been one crazy ride, but I wouldn't erase any of it. "

Morgana snorted. "This is as sappy as I'll ever get, so don't get used to it. After the make up, waxing, facials, pedicure, manicure, and eyebrows, you're going to hate me."

"Now that I actually think of it, that sounds like torture," Gwen admitted.

"It'll be—"

Gwen raised an eyebrow at her.

"Excruciating, yes," Morgana amended, "but it'll be worth it for the look on my brother's face when he sees you descend that staircase. He already can't take his eyes off of you normally. I promise you, when I'm done with you, he won't be able to pick his jaw off the floor."

Gwen giggled. "I sincerely doubt that."

"If I'm right, you have to bake me a strawberry cake," Morgana said.

Gwen grinned back at her. "And if I win, you've got to dress in sweatpants for an entire week."

Morgana winced. "That's okay," she said, regaining her composure. "I'm confident enough that I'll risk it."

She extended her hand and Gwen shook it.

"Just remember to put extra frosting on it, just the way I like it."

* * *

"Merlin, this is completely unnecessary," Arthur shouted.

When his (former) best friend and young son had dragged him to the most expensive tuxedo shop in the city, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He'd arrived to find no less than three shopping attendants and his (soon to be fired) coworkers, Gwaine and Leon.

They had shoved him into a stall nearly an hour ago, only communicating with him through the door.

"It is completely necessary," Merlin quipped. "If left to your own devices, you will embarrass yourself with your questionable fashion choices."

"Let me out of here," Arthur growled. "Or you will regret it. I have dirt on each of you, as you may recall. I can make your lives a living hell."

"It'll be worth it," Gwaine hollered back. "I wouldn't want to see poor Guinevere on the arm of a mismatched ogre."

"You're so confident behind this stall door," Arthur growled. "Come in here and say that to my face."

Gwaine chortled. "I'd rather not. It's much more fun this way."

"Don't worry, Arthur," said Leon, the only one of the bunch to sound sympathetic to his plight. "It'll be worth it in the end, I promise you."

"Et tu, Leon?"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Merlin said. "This isn't for you, remember?"

Arthur sighed. Though he wanted to chuck his shoe at his friend's head, he knew Merlin was right. He never cared much about this company ball. There had never been a reason to. His only responsibility was to give a speech and be charming, all of which came easy to him. This time, however, his biggest responsibility was making sure that Guinevere had the night of her life.

"Daddy, please?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "You too, huh, Mordred?"

"Uh huh," Mordred said. "Your clothes make you look like a clown. Gwen hates clowns!"

"Out of the mouth of babes," Arthur mused, chuckling. "Fine. I'll show you the suit if you step away from the stall door. I promise I won't try to escape this time."

"Agreed," Merlin said.

A few moments later, Arthur emerged wearing a scowl.

"Wow, Daddy!" Mordred ran over and hugged him around the middle. "You look really cool!"

"I do agree that it's not horrible," Arthur amended, smiling down on his son. "Honestly, it could use a little orange, don't you think? Maybe an orange bowtie?"

Gawain balked. "Your son clearly didn't get his keen eye from you."

"Mordred picked this one out," said Leon, smiling. "The most expensive one in the store, I might add."

Arthur looked down at the tux. He had to admit, it was impeccable. It fit him like a glove, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim torso. Even the buttons looked hand-crafted from the finest material.

He lifted his sleeve to read the tag. "Brioni…" he mused. "10,000 dollars? I've never spent more than 3,000 on a tux."

"Arthur, you're one of the top 5 richest men in this entire city," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. "We all know you can afford it."

"I…just don't think Gwen would approve of such extravagant spending."

"She never has to know." Gwaine winked. "And, to sweeten the deal, you should know this is the choice tux of one James Bond."

Arthur's eyes widened. "James…Bond?"

They had found his Achilles heel. He loved James Bond. He was up there with Jim Kirk and Indiana Jones in his mind.

Arthur turned to face the mirror again, this time slicking back his hair and posing in the mirror with his arms folded across his chest.

"I do feel slightly more debonair than usual," he said, admiring his silhouette. He then turned to face them. "I'll take it."

"That wasn't nearly as hard a sell as I was expecting it to be," Leon said.

"We just zeroed in on Arthur's three weaknesses: action heroes, Guinevere Leodegrance, and his own reflection," Merlin explained. "The combination is deadly to his resolve."

"Oh shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, glaring at him. "You wouldn't want me to tell them about your weakness for Sailor Mo—"

Merlin clamped him on the back before he could finish. "Ahaha. You're so funny, old sport."

"Old Sport?"

"Merlin quotes old literature when he's upset," Arthur explained.

"Morgana was right. You two are about a strange as they come," Gwaine said, shaking his head. "I'm surprised either of you could keep a girlfriend for very long."

Merlin stiffened and Arthur wanted to hit Gwaine.

"How about you pick one of these out for yourself, Merlin, " Arthur said quickly. "Choose whatever style you like. It's on me. I understand tonight is important for you as well."

Merlin, to his surprise, only nodded and vanished behind the red and gold drapery.

"Was it something I said?"

As much as Arthur wanted to tell at his CFO, he found that he couldn't blame him. He didn't know, and it sure as hell wasn't Arthur's place to tell him.

"Let me go speak to him," Arthur said. He knelt down to his son's level and ruffled his hair. "I'll only be gone a moment," he said. "Be good for uncle Leon and Gawain."

His son nodded vigorously, which brought a smile to Arthur's face.

Arthur then ventured into the heart of the store, glancing with distaste at the various attendants who were giving him a once over of approval. A redhead at reception winked at him and Arthur blushed in embarrassment. It might have been a good idea to shed the suit before wading through the sea of creepy shop attendants.

He spotted Merlin, standing in a far corner, looking out of the shop window at the various boutiques lining the street. The sadness in his friend's blue eyes sent a bolt of sympathy through his heart.

"Freya loves the snow," Merlin said, without turning to face him. "She says every bit of snowfall is a new beginning."

He leaned back and rested his head against the wall.

"She's my snowfall, beautiful and pure." He tipped his head toward the ceiling. "But I can't hold on to her, I can't save her. All I can do is watch her slip away from me."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say to that. He slouched a little, stuffing his fists into the pockets of his suit pants, waiting for his friend to continue.

"I love her, Arthur," Merlin said, finally turning to face him. "I don't know what I'll do when she's gone."

His eyes were wet with tears and Arthur sprung to action, enveloping his friend in his arms.

"Hey," he said, hugging his friend firmly. "I know it hurts, Merlin. But right now, she's alive. The more time you spend worrying about this, the less time you'll have to spend with her. Pack those thoughts away, for now, and focus on her. Show her the best night she could possibly hope for."

He pulled back, and looked Merlin in the eye. "Don't start mourning her until she's gone, Merlin, or you'll regret it. And, when that time comes, I promise I'll be there for you, every step of the way."

Merlin wiped away his tears and took a deep breath to regain his composure. "I never thought I'd hear such sentimental words from you. Sometimes, I forget you're capable."

"Hey! I can be sentimental when the situation warrants it!"

Merlin clamped a hand on Arthur's shoulder, "Thank you, Arthur," he said, mustering up a smile, "you're a good man and a wonderful friend."

Arthur smirked. "Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't push your luck."'

* * *

"I am not wearing a tiara."

Freya crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at her brother, who was laughing openly at her.

"I'm sure this cost a fortune," Lance said, turning the aforementioned accessory in his hands. "4,000 at the very least, I'd say."

Freya raised her eyebrow at him. "Please. You've been rich for like ten minutes, and you think you're an expert at appraisal."

She snatched the tiara away from him with a scowl. "Why don't you wear it? It matches your sparkly eyeliner perfectly."

Lance's smile fell. "That's not funny, Frey."

"Oh, it is," Freya said, flashing him a devilish smile. "I've watched as much footage of you as I can online. I'm sure you're the world's number one consumer of glitter and leather."

"I don't enjoy wearing that stuff," he scoffed. "It's for the stage."

"It's for me," she added, her own smile falling. "You don't even like performing, do you?"

"Hush," he said, entwining his fingers with hers. "Of course I do it for you. I would do anything for you."

"I know you would," Freya said, smiling sadly. "That's what got you into this mess."

"I wasted all my time, thinking there was a way out for you," he said, looking into her eyes. "I should have just spent that time with you, instead of chasing some impossibility."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't try, Lance," she said, cupping her brother's face with a hand. "I love you for that. Promise me, when I'm gone—"

"Freya—"

"_Promise me_," she pressed on, "that you won't change, that you'll always be my determined, strong willed older brother. You have a good heart. I'm certain someone will see it one day."

"Someone really did see me," Lance said, sighing, "She never loved me, surely. I never gave her the chance."

"Just because you love someone, it doesn't mean it's meant to be," she said, squeezing his hand. "You know that as well as I."

"I know," he said. "It doesn't make it any easier."

"You did the right thing, Lance," Freya said. "What you did was wrong, but I'm sure you'll find a way to earn her trust again."

"Will I?"

Freya opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Morgana," said a muffled voice behind the door.

Freya pushed herself up with visible effort. "Would you mind getting that, Lance?"

Her brother nodded, making it to the door in a few quick strides. He opened the door to reveal a slightly out of breath Morgana, who was grasping onto a caramel colored wrist.

"Gwen," Lance said, his eyes widening.

She looked up at him and he was taken aback at the hesitance reflected in her eyes.

"Lance," she said, her voice almost formal.

Morgana grinned. "Are you going to the ball as well?"

Lance chuckled. "I got your four invites, Morgana. I may...make an appearance."

"If so, you owe me a dance," she said, winking at him.

"I think I can manage that," he said. His eyes wandered to her companion, who was determined not to look at him. "Will you save me a dance as well, Guinevere?"

Gwen blushed. "Of course," she said. "Though I can't promise you I won't trample over your feet."

"I look forward to it," he said.

The words came out more meaningful than he intended and, for a moment, a silence fell upon the room.

"Well, then," said Morgana awkwardly, "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

She dragged Gwen into the room, gently moving past Lance.

"I'm afraid you have to leave now, brother," Freya said, smiling. "I believe it's time for hair and make-up. I trust I'll see you at the ball tonight?"

Lance nodded, giving Gwen one last meaningful glance before exiting the room.

"You must be Gwen," Freya said, as her brother left. "I'm Freya. I've heard so much about you, I feel as though I know you already."

"Likewise," Gwen said.

They both turned to look at Morgana, who was pulling out various tools from her oversized bag.

Freya balked. "Those look like medieval torture devices," she said, eyeing the array of tools with suspicion. "Especially that shiny contraption."

"This," said Morgana, reaching for the device in question, "is an eyelash curler. It is the most important item in my arsenal."

"You weren't there for the 'mani-pedi'," said Gwen, shuddering. "Seeing them remove my cuticles was pretty terrifying."

"They can do that?"

"That along with full-body waxes," Gwen added. "I've never been through that much pain in my life. Now I understand why they don't have windows in those rooms. Too many people have tried to escape, I'm sure."

"Oh hush, you," said Morgana. "Your skin is silky smooth, is it not?"

Gwen nodded. "I would hope so, after all of that pain."

"I'm pretty sure that one was used in the Spanish Inquisition," said Freya, pointing to a spiky silver bottle.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "This," she said, untwisting the top and lifting the lid, "Is mascara. The spiky bottle is just for show."

"You are not putting that thing anywhere _near_ my eye," said Freya, pressing her back flat against the mattress.

"Girls, relax!" Morgana grinned at each of them. "This is going to be fun! Who wants to go first?"

Freya looked at Gwen, her expression pleading.

Gwen sighed. "Me," she said glumly, scooting closer to her raven-haired companion.

Morgana's smile grew wider as she retrieved a small bottle with an attachable pump. "Primer," she said, "a girl's best friend."

She pulled a large brush from her arsenal and began to slather the liquid onto Gwen's face. The substance was cold and dried almost immediately.

"So," Freya said as she observed the strange scene, "Arthur Pendragon, huh?"

Gwen's face reddened, though the effect was luckily masked by the makeup.

"What of him?"

Freya leaned forward. "What is it like to be with him?"

Morgana snorted. "My brother may be good-looking, but that is really the only gift he has to offer. If you ask me, Gwen's getting a bum deal."

"That's not true," Gwen protested. "Arthur is kind and loyal. He really cares about the people he loves. He's respectful, honorable, and wonderful. Almost…like a prince."

"You're right," Morgana said. "He does bear a striking resemblance to Ivan the terrible."

"Or Prince Phillip," said Freya. "You know, the one from sleeping beauty? He was incredibly dorky, but he was always my favorite."

"The Ogre from Shrek," Morgana said, reaching into her bag to retrieve a bottle of foundation. "Or the donkey."

Gwen giggled. "You're being entirely unfair to your brother, Morgana."

"It all stems from love," she said. "Arthur says horrible things about me all the time, I'm sure. It's what siblings do."

"Lance always called me Fugly Freya when I was little," Freya said, wrinkling her nose. "Kids can really be horrible."

Freya's eyes traveled to her lap. "Speaking of horrible," she said, lifting the long forgotten object. "Would you like to take this off my hands, Gwen?"

Gwen's eyes widened as she examined the shiny object dangling from Freya's finger. It was a diamond tiara, she realized. However it was unlike any tiara she'd ever seen. It wasn't anything like the fancy mini crowns she'd grown accustomed to seeing. Rather it was a subdued and elegant headpiece.

"It's beautiful," Gwen said, marveling at it. "I couldn't possibly take that from you. It looks like it cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Lance," Freya said, scowling. "That one really likes to mock me. I have absolutely no use for this. If you don't take it, it's going in the garbage."

"Are you sure?" Gwen retrieved the tiara from Freya, examining it in her hands. "I can't see why you would want to part with this."

"Wow," said Morgana, pausing for a moment to glance at the tiara. "The craftsmanship on this is exquisite. I've never seen anything like it."

Gwen felt a strange connection to the object in her hands, almost as though she had seen it somewhere before. She knew, however, that it wouldn't make any sense. There would have been no opportunity in her life to ever hold such a valuable object. And yet, something within her _knew_ she had held it before.

"I tried for hours to get you to agree to wear even the tinniest diamond headband and you refused," Morgana scoffed. "She hands you this tiara and you're sold in an instant. What gives?"

Gwen shrugged. "This one just…feels right."

"Sure it does," said Morgana. "Now, sit still. I've got to use the medieval torture devices on your eyes."

As Morgana concentrated on applying liner carefully to Gwen's lids, Freya discretely coughed into a nearby tissue and paled immediately at what she saw.

Her time was limited, she knew. Everything was becoming painful. It took every effort to even lift the diamond tiara off of her lap.

She looked over at the two girls, who were laughing at some joke she had missed in her contemplation. Deep down, she knew she should tell them, her brother, _Merlin_, but as she watched them laughing, the mirth ever-present in the air, she couldn't find it in her heart to utter a single word of her condition.

* * *

Lance shut the door behind him and threw his keys on the side table. He then leaned against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

He hadn't expected to see her today. Today, he thought, would be a welcome reprieve from the compounded misery of her presence.

He wondered if he could withdraw his promise to attend the ball. If seeing her for just a few moments had such a profound effect on him,he wasn't sure he could deal with seeing her all dressed up at the ball on the arm of Arthur Pendragon, no less.

Yet, perhaps she would avoid him all together. She had acted quite strange at the hospital, avoiding his eyes, going out of her way to avoid his touch. At first, he had thought she was expressing embarrassment at getting drunk in his presence the night before. However, he detected more than embarrassment in her brown eyes. She was apprehensive, almost fearful of him.

He stood up suddenly, a thought coming to him in an instant. He sprinted to his bedroom, almost tripping over a wayward bottle of Jack Daniels.

Lance hadn't returned to his department after leaving to confront Vivian. He found the atmosphere too oppressive and sad. He'd only returned at this moment to pick up a few things. However, in his haste to leave his apartment the previous morning, it had not occurred to him to dispose of the evidence.

He approached his dresser cautiously and slowly pulled the middle drawer towards him. He rummaged through the drawer, disrupting the neatly folded clothing within.

It was gone.

Fear gripped him so suddenly and he had to sit on his bed to steady himself.

Had she gone through it?

No. If she had, she would have been at his door, begging for answers. She wouldn't be going to a ball in honor of Pendragon Inc. He also knew Gwen to be very respectful. She may have been curious and confused enough to take the folder, but hadn't brought herself to open it just yet.

Hope blossomed in his chest for a moment. If she hadn't opened it then, perhaps, there was still a chance to stop her. The truth had an awful way of coming out, he knew, but perhaps he could delay it somehow, let her enjoy her happiness for just a little while longer.

He'd severed all ties with Vivian and Nimueh as far as he was concerned. When he'd returned to his motorcycle after his conversation with Vivian, he'd found a brown box wrapped in silver paper, with an elaborate red bow atop it. Inside he'd found a stunning diamond tiara with a note attached.

_Be sure that she gets this_, it read.

He'd given the thing to Freya instead in outright defiance of their plans. He reused to be a pawn in their sick games any longer. They'd made enough of a mess of his life.

It was time to take control.

* * *

The Pendragon ball always reminded Arthur of the 1920s. It was all glitz and glamour, decadence and excess, and full of false pretenses.

He honestly hated it.

It was always held in the same place, _The_ _Persephone_, the most expensive hotel in town. His father had acquired the hotel at some point in his young life. The ballroom itself was absurdly large, with opulent white walls trimmed with gold, and a high, domed ceiling. The entire dome was a 15th century style fresco of different scenes from Greek mythology. A giant staircase spiraled down from the balcony to the gold-flecked marble floors.

Arthur could stare at the ballroom for ages. It was clearly inspired by the House of Mirrors in Versailles, which was his favorite architectural structure. No, it was not the ballroom he took issue with; it was the people who came with it.

"Arthur."

Arthur plastered on a smile. "Nimueh," he said. "You look lovely."

True to form, she was wearing a red dress with a plunging neckline. Two large diamond earrings dangled from her ears.

"As do you, for a change," she said, giving him a sly smile. "Decided not to wear one of your…interesting ties this year, I see."

Arthur never felt completely comfortable around his creative director. She was beautiful, but in a distant, icy kind of way. Her wavy brown hair curled perfectly around her heart-shaped face and her full lips smiled back at him. However her smile, as lovely as it was, never fully reached her eyes.

"You've really outdone yourself this year," Arthur said, looking around the ballroom. "The guest list is easily twice as large as it was the previous year. I expect this is going to cost me a fortune."

"You're bringing someone new into the Pendragon Inc. family," she said, her lips curling upward. "Everyone has been eager to see the apple of Arthur Pendragon's eye."

"It's not like I'm engaged to her," Arthur said, blushing. "If I had known this was going to be such a huge deal, I would have reconsidered getting her involved in this overblown spectacle."

She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow. "You will introduce us, won't you?" she leaned forward so her lips were touching his ear, "I'm _dying_ to meet her."

Arthur gulped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She was too close to him and he could feel the curve of her breasts against his inner arm.

He pulled away from her and cleared his throat. "Of course, Nimueh," he said, his voice sounding a bit strangled. "If you'll excuse me…"

Arthur brushed past her and pushed his way through the elegant crowd to an unoccupied corner of the room.

There was something a bit off about his creative director tonight. She was usually incredibly reserved and contained. Tonight, she seemed to be oozing with sexuality.

_She's trying to embarrass me_, he concluded.

"Arthur!"

"Gwaine," said Arthur, giving him a once over. "You clean up nicely."

"Lies," Gwaine said. "I always look amazing."

Arthur scanned the area. "Where's your date?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Didn't have the time to find one. It won't take too long. There are plenty of single women here?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you already run the gamut?"

"I have not," he said indignantly. "I've never met the redhead at nine o'clock. She seems unattached. The blonde at twelve o'clock is…is…"

Arthur smirked. "Is what?"

Gwaine opened his mouth, but the words didn't seem to be coming out. Arthur soon realized that he was not, in fact looking anywhere near the direction of twelve o'clock. Arthur followed his eyes to the top of the grand staircase.

His words died in his throat.

She was a lovely vision in white. Her dress seemed to caress every curve, ending in an intricate train of petal-like folds. Her wavy tendrils were carefully piled atop her head in an intricate bun. A small diamond tiara winked at him from the crown of her head.

With every step, she seemed to glide down the staircase with a grace and poise he'd never seen from her.

"Wow," said Gwaine. "Is that…Guinevere? It can't be…"

Arthur couldn't answer. He remained transfixed by her every move as she descended the staircase.

The loud buzzing within the room seemed to die down as several eyes focused on the new arrival.

His feet seemed to move on their own accord as he made his way to her in a few quick strides. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at her. After a few moments, she found him and stopped her descent.

She looked down at him and gave him a small smile. He held out his hand, which she gladly took, and helped her down the remaining three steps.

"You look…stunning," he managed to say.

"Really? It's not too much?"

"Not at all," Arthur said, giving her a once over. Up close, he noticed details that had eluded him from a distance. Tiny, opulent pearls were weaved into her curls. Her ears were adorned with tiny diamond starburst earrings and an even smaller diamond teardrop necklace dangled right above the swell of her chest.

She slid her hand up his arm to the crook of his elbow, where Nimueh had been moments before. This time, it brought a smile to his face.

"This room is amazing," she said, staring up at the large dome.

"The person who designed it had a penchant for Greek mythology," Arthur replied. He pointed up at the ceiling, "That's Zeus winning the battle against his father Cronos, that's the birth of Athena, and that's Persephone being dragged to the underworld."

"That's quite a morbid scene to be at the center," Gwen said, looking up at the fresco. "However, the stories of Hades and Persephone were always my favorite. A dark tale of a beauty and the dark handsome ruler of the underworld which blossoms into a love story of sorts."

"The classic case of Stockholm syndrome," Arthur said, grinning.

"Oh hush," Gwen said, swatting at him with her free hand. "It was my father's favorite story as well. He used to have this large book of Greek myths and he'd read me one each night. He told this one quite often."

"I wouldn't want to fall asleep to the story of Cronos vomiting up his children," Arthur said, shuddering.

Gwen giggled. "He waited until I was much older to tell me that one," she said.

They made their way through the crowd, garnering stares as they went.

"I forgot to mention," Gwen said, smiling up at him. "You look quite debonair in that tux. You remind me of Pierce Brosnan circa 1960."

"I could kiss you, just for that," Arthur said.

"Since when do you need a reason to kiss me?"

"You shouldn't tease me here," Arthur said. "Shame on you, Guinevere. We have to be proper, respectable adults."

"Oh?" She pointed to the far corner where a "respectable" couple was necking in the corner. "We shouldn't lead by their example, I suppose."

He leaned in close. "There will be plenty of time for that later," he whispered.

Someone coughed loudly.

They looked up to find Uther standing before them, a rather severe expression on his face.

"Guinevere," he said. "I never thought I'd be meeting you again in this setting."

His eyes were much colder than he remembered. He was staring her down, examining every detail of her outfit critically.

He looked up at her, revulsion reflected in his cold blue eyes.

"I hope you enjoy yourself," he said, without a even a trace of a smile.

"I'm sure I will," she said. "This ballroom is love—"

He brushed by her briskly, without even a backwards glance.

Gwen looked up at Arthur, confusion written all over her face.

Arthur shrugged. "I wouldn't mind him. I figure he's still upset I didn't tell him about us. No worries. We'll invite him over for dinner and I'm sure he'll forget the entire thing."

Gwen wasn't convinced. She'd never seen such unabashed hatred before. It shook her to the core.

"If you say so," she said, hesitantly, choosing to ignore the strange encounter.

Arthur looked around the room. "Where is Morgana? I thought you two were attached at the hip this morning."

"She went to put the finishing touches to the small ballroom," Gwen said. "It's for Freya and Merlin. Apparently she's been working on it for months."

Arthur sighed. "I hope she at least gets to make the tail end of the ball. Morgana loves huge spectacles like this."

He led her to the opposite side of the room towards a litany of shimmery white linen tables, where many of the guests were now seated. Many stared at them openly as they sat down.

"Gwaine was supposed to sit with us," Arthur said, looking around the room. "I'm not sure where he went."

"If memory serves, he had quite the short attention span," Gwen said. "He's probably on the balcony chatting up some pretty girl. I wouldn't worry about him too much."

"I doubt it, given the way he was looking at you," Arthur said.

"We haven't seen each other in such a long time," Gwen said, waving him off. "We were teenagers back then and have changed so much. It probably took him a while to register the changes."

_Very __**specific **__changes, I'm sure,_ he thought grumpily, his eyes drifting once again to the generous swell of her chest.

"Oh god," Gwen said turning pale. "It's my worst nightmare."

She was staring at the cutlery display in pure horror.

Arthur stifled the urge to laugh. "It's not like they're going to jump up and bite you."

"I can never remember what order everything is in," she said.

"Well, that's your napkin," he said, pointing to the folded cloth triangle on the far left.

"Very funny," she said, scrunching her nose at him.

"Next to it is the salad fork. The large fork next to your dinner plate is the dinner fork," he continued.

"I feel like you're making this up," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Next to the immediate right of the dinner plate is the dinner knife, followed by the teaspoon, the soup spoon, and the cocktail fork."

"Cocktail fork?"

Arthur shrugged. "Don't ask me, I've never had to use it."

She giggled.

"White wine glass, red wine glass, water glass," he said pointing to the right of the display. "Dessert fork and spoon at the top and, finally, the bread and butter plate and knife."

"Wow," Gwen said, her eyes widening. "This is serious business."

"It's all for show," Arthur said, shrugging. "No one even cares if you use the wrong utensil."

A waiter holding a small black notebook appeared.

"Pheasant with saffron and polenta, mint lamb and potatoes, or vegetarian pesto?" he asked.

"I would like the lamb," Arthur said.

"Um," said Guinevere, peering over at the cart. "I'd like the pheasant, I think."

The waiter nodded and hurried away.

Gwen turned to Arthur. "I have no idea what pheasant tastes like," she said.

"Everything here tastes amazing," Arthur said. "If you don't like it, though, I'll let you have some of mine."

"Would you mind if I sat here?"

Leon was towering over their table, with his hands in his pockets. He smiled at Gwen, who returned the smile shyly.

"You're not with Vivian," Arthur said, looking confused.

"Astute observation, Mr. Pendragon," said Leon, sitting down next to his friend. "Vivian is currently occupied at the moment—"

There was a loud crash in the distance and all three occupants of table one jumped. The hall fell silent as the collective attention shifted to the catastrophe.

Vivian, decked in the customary waitress attire, was sitting on the floor amidst an array of broken glass and horderves.

"Who on Earth decided she should be a waitress?"

"Your creative director," he said, shaking his head. "She apparently botched something up pretty badly. Vivian is making her be a waitress tonight to make up for it."

Arthur frowned as Leon settled down next to him. "That's not fair. I'll have a word with Nimueh about this. This is no way to treat our employees."

Leon shook his head. "That's what I suggested. I said I would talk to you, but she is determined to make it through the night. I think she's just being stubborn."

Arthur shrugged. "I guess I can't be any help, in that case."

"It's a pity," Leon said, leaning back in his chair. "I know how much she loves these balls. I was hoping I'd get the chance to finally dance with her. I've asked her so many times in the past. This was the only time I was sure she'd say yes."

"Who says waitresses can't dance?"

Leon looked at Gwen curiously.

"I mean," she said, "The waitresses only have to serve the food during the first part of the night. The dancing comes after. I'm sure if you asked her to dance then, she'd love it. It'll be an unexpected surprise."

"You're sure?"

"Trust me on this one."

Leon's eyes returned to Vivian, who was wincing while she picked up the large pieces of glass off the marble floor. He sighed, turning back to face the couple.

"You look lovely tonight, Guinevere," he said, smiling at her. "That dress really suits you."

"Thank you," she said, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "You look quite handsome as well."

"You make this guy look halfway decent," Leon added. "Be glad you were not here for the orange tie debacle."

"It was a statement piece!"

Gwen giggled. "I'm surprised you know what a statement piece is."

"Morgana osmosis," Leon explained. "The girl is mad about fashion."

His eyes changed slightly at the mention of her name, as though he wasn't quite sure how to react. "Where is she, by the way? This is kind of her thing, isn't it?"

"She's...busy at the moment."

"Merlin?"

Arthur nodded, hesitantly.

Leon cocked his head to the side. "That... didn't hurt as much as I expected it to."

Arthur patted his friend lightly on the back. "One day, you'll wake up and you'll find that you're completely over her. It'll surprise you how much it doesn't affect you.

"Don't they always say you never forget your first love?"

Arthur tightened his grip on Gwen's fingers and she looked up with him, a question in her eyes.

Leon shook his head. "Gosh, I'm being such a downer. Enough about my life. Tell me a little about yourself, Guinevere."

_Well, I'm an orphan in love with a billionaire with a supposed deep, dark secret..._

She shook her head.

"I'm afraid am terribly boring," she said. "I...was fired from every job I ever held before coming here to work as a nanny."

Leon's eyes widened. "Really?"

Gwen laughed. "Yeah. I may have...even handed out flyers at the fast food joint where I previously worked... that listed twelve healthy alternatives to fast food."

"But you must have known that was going to cost you the job, right?"

She shrugged. "I don't think I was really interested in keeping those jobs. I was holding out for something better."

She smiled up at Arthur, who grinned back.

"Something better?" Leon chuckled. "Mordred is something better? You must be a saint."

Arthur glared at him.

Leon put his hands up in defense before leaning back in his seat. "You know," he said slowly, staring closely at Gwen, "you have a face made for the camera."

Gwen blinked. "I…do?"

"Beautiful skin, glowing eyes, wild curly hair," Leon mused. "And your bone structure works very well—"

Arthur groaned. "Leon… whatever you're thinking…"

"Viewership would skyrocket! It's genius!"

Leon placed a hand over Gwen's and smiled at her. "I've been looking for a model for our Tiffany's spread. I've decided on a royalty theme, very lavish and rich colors to offset the ornate jewelry. I need someone who could encapsulate that regal air."

Gwen stared at him, her mouth agape. "You want me… to model…as a princess?"

"Not a princess," he said, shaking his head. "A _queen."_

"Leon, I'm not putting my girlfriend in the center spread to up viewership," Arthur said. "I've already put her through enough. We don't need another media circus."

"I understand," Leon said, pulling something out of his suit pocket. " I won't try to push the matter any further. Just consider it?"

He handed Gwen the stark white business card, with a wink.

"I have the weirdest friends," Arthur murmured, putting his head in his hands.

"Speak of the Devil," Leon said.

Arthur followed the direction of his friend's gaze to see Gwaine approaching the table. His hands were stuffed deep inside his pockets and he looked more subdued than Arthur had ever seen him.

"There's our esteemed CFO," Leon said, grinning. "Where's your date?

Gwaine simply ignored him, his eyes instead focusing on Guinevere. "Hey," he said, nodding in her direction.

She blinked.

"Gwaine?"

"In the flesh," he said, smiling.

He walked over, plopping down in the seat next to her.

"Leon," Arthur said suddenly. "I need your help with something."

"Huh? What could you possibly need my help—OW!"

Leon rubbed his knee, scowling at Arthur. "Alright! Sheesh!"

The two men quickly got up and walked towards the direction of the refreshments.

"It's been almost ten years," Gwen said after a few moments. "I honestly never thought I'd see you again."

"We would have, had I not been such a coward," he said, avoiding her eyes. "I could have found you if I tried, but I was afraid of what I would find. I couldn't bear to see the hurt and betrayal in your eyes."

Gwen smiled at their antics before turning towards Gwaine. At first, it had been hard to reconcile this image of a successful, handsome businessman with the scrawny troublemaker who had once been her best friend. Now, she could easily see the resemblance. Under the lacquered façade of professionalism, there remained the same childish vulnerability she'd once found alluring.

"I was more hurt that you didn't tell me where you were going," she said. "I was worried that something had happened to you. A few letters would have been nice, maybe even a postcard."

"I wrote to you," he said, his eyes softening. "I wrote about a hundred letters, but I could never muster up the courage to send them to you. I've kept them all in a box.

Her brows knit together in confusion. "It takes courage to send a letter?"

"I was sixteen and stupid," he said. "I knew if I sent you a letter, I'd have to admit I was a liar."

"What do you mean?"

"I said I left because I wanted to make it big," he said. "I said I left _for _you when, in reality, I left because of you."

She looked crestfallen. "_Because_ of me?"

"You never noticed," he said, smiling sheepishly. "But I was crazy about you."

Gwen's nose scrunched up disapprovingly. "You left the night after we first…"

He smirked. "In the back of my Chevy?"

She blushed. "Not one of my proudest moments."

"I'd say, out of all of my accomplishments, that one takes the cake," he said, his grin widening. "Who knew that little miss perfect had a wild side?"

She kicked him under the table, making sure the platform heel connected with is knee.

He grimaced. "I deserved that," he said.

"I thought you left because you were disappointed," she said, looking down at her napkin. "I thought, maybe, you didn't think I was good enough for you."

He snorted. "Of course not. If anything, you were _too _good for me. The truth is… I wasn't leaving on some trip of self-discovery. I…came into some money."

He looked ashamed at this confession. "As it turns out, my father felt guilty about knocking up my mother and leaving her on a waitress's salary. Took the asshole sixteen years but I can't say he never did anything for us."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Tell you? You who were working two jobs to keep your family afloat, while I just got into fight after fight?" He shook his head. "No. I didn't want to admit to you that I came into money. I didn't deserve it. It just sounded better to say that I'd do it on my own."

She looked him up and down. "But you did accomplish a lot on your own."

"I had help," he said, grimly.

"If anyone says they ever got anywhere without help, that person is a liar," she said. "You were lucky, of course, and likely had opportunities others could only dream of. But that doesn't mean you didn't have to work hard. No amount of money could make you the CFO of any company. You still had to do well in school and work hard, didn't you?"

"I worked my ass off," he admitted. "I _did_ have to work hard to get here, I won't deny that. But, I lied to you about the money. I left you because I knew that, if I stayed any longer, I wouldn't be able to leave you. And I knew I had to leave if I was ever going to make something of myself."

"I'll admit, I _was_ angry with you," she said, looking him in the eye. "I was angry for months. Then I just became worried and anxious, wondering where you were, if you were all right. I thought, for sure, he would send me something if he were okay. I oscillated from believing you were dead to having hope that you'd accomplished your goal. And, one day, I just settled on that, and let the horrible thoughts fly away."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I left. It's something I regret every day. I thought, maybe, if you saw me as I am now, you'd be proud of me and understand why I did what I did."

"I am proud," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Proud, but not surprised. I always had faith in you, Gwaine. I just wish you'd had a little more faith in me. I wasn't going to end up being the small town girl forever. Even if you did come back, time wasn't going to stop for you. I wasn't going to wait for the boy I may have loved at sixteen."

"I know that now," he said. "And I'm truly, deeply sorry for everything I've done."

"I've already forgiven you," Gwen said, placing her hand on his cheek. "I forgave you a long time ago. I'm _happy_ that you left, that you got out of there and made something out of yourself. We both became happier, stronger people because of it. If you'd been there, when my father died, when my brother ran away…I would have leaned on you too much. I believe I would have become a different person."

She dropped her hand and looked over at the refreshment table, where Arthur was standing. He quickly turned away and dumped his full cup of punch back into the pitcher and filled it anew.

"If you hadn't left," she said, slowly, keeping her eyes on Arthur, "I may have never met Arthur. We may have both stayed put, had kids, and lived in the same small town. Or maybe we would have gotten sick of each other. Though it hurt me then to see you leave, I think…things were meant to happen this way."

Gwaine didn't think so. He didn't tell her he'd built up the resolve to look for her this year. He didn't tell her that the first thing he'd bought with his money was a diamond ring. He didn't tell her that, all the successes and women in the world had never measured up to holding her in his arms that night in his beat up Chevy.

Instead, he only nodded.

"Perhaps they were," he said. "Regardless…I'm glad I have the chance to see you again. I never dreamed we'd meet under these circumstances, but I'm glad."

"Me too," she said, smiling back at him. "I've missed you."

"And I, you."

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, catching her completely off guard. She stared at him for a moment, watching as his face contorted into an expression of devilish glee as Arthur made his way swiftly to the table.

"Just being friendly," Gwaine said, winking at Arthur.

"Very _friendly_, indeed," Arthur said, plopping down next to Gwen.

Leon arrived shortly afterwards, sitting next to Gwaine, a huge smile on his face. "You better watch out Gwaine. I saw him crush one of those plastic cups with his bare hands."

"Shut up," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I have a very strong grip."

"Two mint lambs and one pheasant."

They all looked up to see a slightly embarrassed Vivian, who had parked a food cart directly in front of their table.

"I ordered the pheasant," Gwen said, smiling sympathetically.

"Of _course_ you did," Vivian said, sneering at her. "I bet pheasants are exotic from your point of view."

"I'm just trying to enjoy my evening, Vivian," Gwen said. "Could you, perhaps, forget whatever juvenile grudge you have against me for one night?"

Vivian looked flabbergasted for a moment, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

"Fine," she huffed, hastily placing the plates of lamb in front the three men. "Enjoy your dinner."

She hastily pushed the cart to the table, avoiding Leon's questioning eyes.

"Are you sure _that's_ the girl you're dating?"

"Yes, Gwaine," Leon said, rolling his eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to the man who has managed to date a kleptomaniac, a pyromaniac, and a convicted murderer."

"You say potato…"

"I remember when Laila stole the company watch that was a gift for one of the investors. You had to track her down all the way to Luxembourg—"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You had to what?"

"Leon! You weren't supposed to tell him."

Leon shrugged. "You got it back, didn't you? That's all that really matters."

Arthur turned towards Gwen. "You see what I have to deal with," he said, gesturing at his colleagues. "This is what happens when your employees become your friends. They think they can just walk all over you."

"You love them, don't deny it," she said grinning. "I think it's sweet."

Arthur crinkled up his nose in mock disgust. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

Gwaine eagerly reached for his dinner fork and winced when Leon whacked him with a butter knife.

"Ouch!" He glared at Leon as he nursed his injured hand. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Your atrocious table manners." He looked at Gwen and smiled, ignoring Gwaine's cries of protest. "You want to give the toast?"

Gwen just stared at him.

"Er…" She said, looking down at her lap. "Surely you don't want me to do it. I'm sure Arthur or Gwaine would do a better—"

She felt Arthur's hand clasp hers beneath the table. Her anxious eyes met his and she could feel encouragement and love through his gaze.

Gwen smiled, lifting her glass to eyelevel. "To old friends and new," she said, pushing her glass forward.

"To old friends and new!"

The four clinked their glasses together before taking a generous sip of red wine. Gwen looked around the table, her face flushed from the wine._ To old friends and new,_ she thought again as she squeezed Arthur's hand under the table.

"Well? What are you all waiting for?" Gwaine whined as he grabbed his fork. "Let's dig in!"

* * *

Merlin knocked on the door to room 432. For some reason, he felt anxious. It was strange. He never felt anxious knocking on Freya's door. He could always imagine her warm smile, waiting just beyond the door, welcoming him into her embrace.

He could feel it now, though, icy cold and nearly debilitating, pumping through his system with a strange ferocity.

"Come in," said the muffled voice beyond the door.

He hesitated for a moment before turning the doorknob and crossing the threshold into the room.

She was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her head didn't turn to meet him. The familiar smile didn't cross her pale face. She lay still, as though something was weighing her down, binding her limbs.

She was wearing a silver dress, which skimmed over her slender frame. Merlin recognized it immediately. Morgana had worn it at sixteen, feigning defiance as he placed the corsage on her wrist. He'd seen through it then, the haughty wall that crumbled at a single kiss.

When Morgana had worn it, she seemed to pull everything around her into her orbit. He wanted to remove it from Freya's still form, replace it with something less bright, less garish.

She was beautiful. Her lids were dusted with blue, framing her heavy lashes and deep brown eyes. Her cheeks and lips were a light rose and her warm chocolate locks curled around her shoulders elegantly.

However, the shiny, opulent dress made his blood run even colder. It was as though he were looking at a ghost, not _his_ Freya.

He approached her, his feet feeling oddly heavy.

"I can't feel my feet," she said, her eyes still glued to the ceiling. "I guess… I won't have to wear those awful heels."

She laughed, but her voice was hoarse and hollow with no trace of mirth. Even in the dim room, he could see the tears falling down her cheeks and her body wracked with laughter.

He closed the distance between them swiftly placing an arm behind her knees and the other on the small of her back. He lifted her off the bed and into his arms easily and headed toward the door.

She pressed her cheek against his suit. "You look incredibly handsome," she said, smiling.

"And you look beautiful," he said, clutching her tighter to his body. "Absolutely beautiful."

He hurried down the steps and out the hospital door as fast as his legs could carry him, ignoring the yells of hospital personnel he passes along the way.

He deposited her gently in the passenger seat of his car, before occupying his own seat.

"Merlin," she said, clasping his hand in an ice-cold grip. "I…don't think I'll make it to the ball."

He shoved the key in the ignition and sped off, one hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping her hand even tighter.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, forcing himself to laugh. "You will. Of course you will."

She closed her eyes and smiled, looking oddly serene. "I never told you…my home in Chile was next to a lake, surrounded by the tallest mountains, wildflowers and light…it was like heaven."

She gripped his hand tighter as she coughed.

"Lance was always a rubbish swimmer," she said, smiling wider. "In the water I was unstoppable. The Lady of the Lake, they called me."

"I like it," he said using all of his strength to keep the tears at bay. "It suits you."

"This place… it's so cold," she said, the smile running far away from her face. "I want to go home. Please…take me home."

Suddenly, Merlin made a u-turn, and sped in the opposite direction.

"Of course I'll take you home," he said, his voice cracking, betraying his anguish.

In this moment, he'd give her the world if he could. However, time was not on his side tonight and, no matter how fiercely he held her, her life was like water in his palms, dancing away from his grip.

_Just hold on a little longer, _he thought desperately, clinging to her icy, limp hand. _Just a little longer._

Her hand slipped from his grasp and lay limp in her ghostly lap.

* * *

Gwaine burped loudly.

Arthur scoffed. "Could you maybe not be an embarrassment to everyone around you?"

"Disgusting," Leon said, shaking his head.

He shrugged, picking his teeth with a toothpick. "I'm just showing appreciation for a wonderful meal."

"I agree," Gwen said.

Arthur looked at her strangely.

"Not with the burping of course," she amended. "I agree that the food was absolutely wonderful! The best I've tasted."

"You don't think they went overboard with the crème brule?"

"It was like a piece of heaven," Gwen said. "You'll hear no complaints from me."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Arthur said, smiling. "I was worried that maybe…you wouldn't like it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're talking to the girl who thinks kit-kits are the crème de la crème. I don't have the most sophisticated palate."

"Kit-kats are the crème de la crème," he said, his eyes twinkling. "And so are you."

The room was suddenly filled to the brim with the crystal clear sounds of a baby grand.

Gwen's eyes widened as she turned towards the orchestra. "That's…"

"Our cue," Arthur said, grinning. He stood up and held out his hand for the second time that evening. "May I have this dance?"

She nodded, still looking a bit dazed as she slipped her gloved hand into his.

He led her to the center of the dance floor, placing one hand on her waist and clasping her hand with the other. A crowd formed around them in a large circle.

"They're staring at us," she whispered.

"Look at me," he said.

She looked up at him nervously.

"It's just you and me," he said, pulling her close. "No one else."

A tall dark skinned woman approached the mic stand. The light reflected off of her dark blue sequined dress as she began to sing.

_Unforgettable…that's what you aaaare~_

"How did you know this was my favorite song?" Gwen said, as they began to move in a simple box step across the dance floor.

"I may have glanced at your Itunes playlist to see which songs you played the most," Arthur said. "3,425 times. Right after 'Your Song.'"

She blushed. "I admit I'm a bit of a romantic."

He spun her outward, then pulled her back, their bodies even closer than before. "So am I," he whispered.

_Like a song of love that clings to me, how the thought of you does things to meeeee~_

Gwen felt like she had wings. The faces within the crowd began to melt into each other as she and Arthur twirled around the dance floor. Her anxiety slipped away like rain on a wing and she was left with nothing but joy.

Arthur's hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, resting comfortably on her bare skin.

"This feels like a dream," Gwen said, smiling up at him. "Like something from a fairytale. I never thought…someone like me could ever—"

"Someone like you?" He laughed. "Guine_vere_."

He kissed her on her forehead and smiled against her soft skin.

"If anyone's been living in a fairy tale it's me," he said. "I feel like I've been carrying this glass slipper for years. You waltzed into my life, with that unsightly tree branch in your hair, and broke the damn thing."

She laughed.

"As it turns out, that's exactly what I needed," Arthur said. "You showed me I didn't know what the hell I was looking for."

"I always thought glass slippers were horribly impractical," she said, grinning.

He smiled back. "If you had only tried it on," he said. "It would have fit you perfectly."

"I'm glad I didn't," she said. "Falling in love with you has been the most incredible adventure. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, singing along with the music.

_That's why darling, it's incredible, that someone so unforgettable…_

Arthur dipped her low as the singer's rich alto voice began to reach a gentle decrescendo. Then, without preamble, he captured her lips. Her hands wrapped loosely around his neck as he kissed her deeply.

…_thinks that I am…unforgettable tooooo~_

He lifted her in one smooth motion, grinning at the dazed expression on her face. Then, A hearty applause and quite a few whistles cut through the silence, breaking the spell.

They looked around, suddenly cognizant of the large crowd that had circled around them throughout the course of the song. There was an almost shocked silence then, the room erupted in applause.

"They love you," Arthur said, grinning down at her.

In that moment, Gwen felt a rush of true happiness rise in her chest. This was love, pure and simple. The feeling of complete ecstasy and bliss she felt was unreal. For her love had always been bookended, qualified with something horrible. This time, for once, she did not feel a dark cloud looming over her happiness.

Later on, she would remember this moment and wish she had taken a second longer to relish the calm before the storm.

* * *

Hey guys!

Again, long time no see! It's been hectic with graduation and job searching. The good news is that I finally landed a job! The bad news is that, though there will be updates, I can't promise when they'll be posted. I try to get as much out in my free time as I can, but there's just so much story left!

This chapter ended up being nearly 25,000 words at first, so I decided to break it up into two chapters. I figured there would be too much going on if posted it all in one large chunk. I hope this was sufficient for the time being!

As always, please let me know what you think!

-Hime

**::The title of this chapter comes from the Empire of the Sun song of the same name::**


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